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The Heiress 
of the Forest 




T he Heiress of the Forest 

A Romance of Old Anjou 
By Eleanor C. Price Author of 'In 
the Lion’s Mouth ’ ‘ Brown Robin ’ &c. 




Post Office E>ept., 


NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
PUBLISHERS 




By Transtair 
P.O. Dept. 

06 



« 




CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

I. FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 

II. THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 


III. AN UNINVITED GUEST • • • • 37 

IV. DIANE 49 

V. FORTUNE-HUNTERS 7 1 

VI. SACRILEGE 85 

VII. AN INTERVIEW lOI 

VIII. ACCUSATION .119 

IX. CONSPIRACY 137 

X. MADAME’s GHOST 152 

XI. thieves’ CORNER 170 

XII. THE ABBEY GARDEN 1 88 

XIII. VIVE MONSIEUR NICO ! ” . . . . 2o6 

XIV. HOW THEY DANCED 215 

XV. MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS . . . .227 

XVI. FUNERAL BELLS ..... 243 

XVII. A STARTLING WILL 257 

XVIII. AT MIDNIGHT . . . . . •273 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XIX. THE COACH 

. 

. 


PAGE 

. 289 

XX. THE INN . 


• 

• 

• 303 

XXI. “adieu, MON BRAVE 

! ” 

• 

• 

. 322 

XXII. THREE BROTHERS 


• 

• 

• 335 

XXIII. THE RIDE THROUGH 

THE FOREST 

• 

• 349 

XXIV. A STRANGE WEDDING 

• 

• 

• 

• 367 

XXV. A LETTER FROM THE 

KING 

. 

. 

• 376 



The Heiress of the Forest 


CHAPTER I 

FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 

Two hundred years ago there was a forest in 
Anjou, very old and very vast, known as the 
Forest of Montaigle. In the thick depths of its 
underwood, where not even the woodmen often 
ventured, wolf and wild boar had their home : 
among the ferns and bracken the red deer 
couched, and quantities of game of all kinds 
lived undisturbed, except by the great hunts in 
winter. There were many large trees in the 
forest, oaks and beeches especially growing to 
an immense size, often grey with moss, some- 
times overgrown with ivy; and the golden broom 
of that Plantagenet country, shooting up tall 
and slender, leaned long flowery spikes across 
the darker masses of foliage. In more sandy 
parts of the forest fir and birch reigned among 
the trees ; heather grew closely over the ground; 
there were wild natural clearings where nothing 
was taller than the hollies and yews and thorns, 
and there were marshy places full of reeds and 


10 


THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


water-plants along the borders of some little 
stream or near springs that rose and spread at 
their own will in those lonely wilds. The flowers 
of the forest were many, and in summer its 
thickets were red with luxuriant wild roses and 
sweet with honeysuckle which no children came 
to gather. For the peasants feared the forest : 
unearthly beings haunted it, and strange legends 
belonged to it, handed down from one generation 
to another. 

In older days, in the time of the civil wars, 
and indeed ever since the wars with England, 
this region had been infested with robbers and 
freebooters, even more dangerous to the country 
than wer-wolves or ghostly huntsmen. Adr 
vancing civilisation and Cardinal de Richelieu 
had made travelling more secure all over France; 
and the Marquis de Montaigle, the owner of the 
forest and of great tracts of surrounding land, 
had cut a road through it wide enough for 
coaches, had improved the wild green drives 
that ran through its depths for his own hunting, 
and built lodges here and there for his keepers 
and woodmen. The peasants whose labour 
made the road had no thought of the advance of 
civilisation, but worked under compulsion and 
in constant terror ; every accident or misfortune 
that happened gave fresh food for their super- 
stition, and at night round their miserable 
hearths they prophesied evil to the Marquis and 
his family. It seemed that they were justified 
when his three sons died in their childhood one 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF ii 


after another, and only a little daughter, the 
youngest, remained to inherit the great estates 
which made her an object of interest to all the 
noble and courtly match-makers of Louis XIV/s 
time. 

For the greater safety of travellers, the brush- 
wood and the smaller trees had been cleared 
away for about fifty yards on each side of the 
new road, and near the north-east boundary of 
the forest, set back upon the greensward, shel- 
tered by two grey old oaks and by a still older 
hollow stump covered with ivy, the home of a 
family of owls, there was a low stone building 
with a mossy roof, in which Pere Guillaume and 
his three sons lived, if they could be said to live 
anywhere at all. For their days and nights were 
generally spent under no roof but the green 
boughs or the sky. Guillaume was the Marquis's 
forester, and head over all the keepers and 
woodmen of the place. His sons worked under 
him ; these four, with their four large and fierce 
dogs, were the terror of evil-doers about Mont- 
aigle. As far as they could they represented 
law and order ; they were the protectors of 
game, the enemies of wild beasts and birds of 
prey. Various bodies of kites and hawks, of wild 
cats, weasels and other creatures of mischief were 
nailed up in rows under the eaves of their house, 
and sensitive noses did vrell to avoid its near 
neighbourhood. As for the four foresters, all 
smells were alike to them, except for the reason 
that, like dogs, they learned much by following 


12 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


their noses. The youngest of the three brothers, 
a wonderful hunter, could track by scent almost 
as keenly as his own dog. 

One evening in October, in the year 1 680, old 
Guillaume and his three sons were sitting on a 
log near their own door. It was not often that 
they were to be seen all together, for their work 
generally led them miles apart, into the farthest 
corners of the forest. And they were a remark- 
able sight when all together ; and the Marquis 
de Montaigle's friends — or rather, perhaps, his 
enemies — often envied him the service of those 
four men. Joli-gars, the youngest, the shortest 
of them, was over six feet high ; the nickname 
by which, like his brothers, he was always 
known, was owing to a rather handsome girlish 
face with bright colouring. The father and the 
second brother, Gars-cogne (the striker) were of 
the same height, three inches taller than Joli- 
gars. Ga’cogne, as they called him, was an 
ugly, ill-tempered creature of enormous strength; 
the other forest people had a wholesome dread of 
quarrelling with him, for he had already killed 
more than one poacher with his own hands and 
without even a stick. People whispered that if 
Ga’cogne had been merely a poor peasant, he 
would have been hanged at the cross-roads 
before now, and there were some who would not 
have been sorry. But the Marquis de Montaigle 
had the right of high and low justice in those 
^ parts, and he was not at all likely to hang such 
a useful servant to please the peasants. Besides, 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 


3 


there was a connection between these wild 
foresters and the family of Montaigle. Five-and- 
thirty years ago, the Marquise, who was a 
Grandseigne, had been nursed as a weakly baby 
by old Guillaume's wife, the mother of these 
men. Her own first child was then only a few 
months old ; she had carried away the noble 
little girl to her cottage — her husband, then a 
young man, being a gamekeeper on the Grand- 
seigne estates — and had brought her up with her 
own children till she was five years old. When 
still very young. Mademoiselle de Grandseigne 
had been married to the Marquis de Montaigle, 
many years older than herself; and the first 
favour she asked of him was that her nurse and 
foster-mother, with her husband and sons, might 
be taken into his service. So they first lived in 
the village of Montaigle, close under the walls of 
the chateau ; but after a few months M^re Guil- 
laume died. Then the husband and sons moved 
away to that long- roofed hovel in the forest 
where they had lived ever since, and in serving 
the Marquis never forgot that they specially 
belonged to the Marquise. They were not very 
popular with the old Montaigle dependents, the 
regisseur, the major-domo, who were always 
glad to find an occasion against them, though 
kept in wholesome fear by their position, their 
strength and well-known honesty. 

As these four sat on the log that evening, 
rather silent, the autumn day closing sadly in, 
the autumn wind whistling in the leaves above 


14 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


their heads, they were waiting for news that 
seemed long in coming. And suddenly one of 
them rose to his feet, the eldest, rightly called 
Grand-Gui, for he was at least two inches taller 
than his father and his next brother. He was 
thin, however, and stooped a little, and his long 
brown face, grave at the best of times, looked 
deeply dismal now. 

“ I must go,"’ he said. “ The little fellow pro- 
mised me, and yet it seems he is never coming. 
I must go and find out for myself. I can wait 
no longer.'’ 

Sit down ! " growled his father in a terrible 
voice. Do you hear me, fool ? Sit down with 
us and wait.'’ 

‘‘Wait while Madame may be dying!" cried 
Grand-Gui. 

He moved a few steps forward, and strained 
his eyes to look along the road. 

“And you — can you bring her back to life, 
pray ? ’* asked old Guillaume, wagging his grey 
beard, while Joli-gars laughed, and Ga'cogne 
stared sulkily at the ground. 

“ I want my soup," he muttered in the silence 
that followed. 

“ Then go and eat it out of the pig-trough, for 
none but a pig would think of soup to-night," 
retorted his father. 

Grand-Gui, with a deep sigh, came back and 
sat down beside his youngest brother. 

“ Why did you laugh ? " he said to him. 

“ How should I know ? " And the young 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 15 


fellow showed his teeth, white and sharp as 
those of a young wild animal. “I thought it 
was a pity you were not the doctor from La 
Fleche. You look as wise as he does, and twice 
as solemn.” 

“ If I were a doctor, nobody should ever die,” 
murmured Grand-Gui. 

“ Then the world would be much too full ot 
people. You might let the bad ones die, and 
keep the good alive. I can give you a list of 
both. Shall we begin now ? The good first 
— Madame la Marquise, TOiselet, Monsieur 
Nico ” 

“ Silence, chattering fools ! ” said their father. 

They were silent ; but the forest raised its 
voice, for the wind began to blow in stronger 
gusts, and the great boughs creaked, the dead 
and dying leaves flew in showers, while the 
bracken rustled in the undergrowth. All the 
sadness and mystery of autumn was abroad that 
evening ; even these wild minds felt it, nearly 
related to Nature as they were, and too much 
used to her moods to be easily impressed by 
them. The moon had risen, and the long rays 
of light that pierced the foliage and fell across 
the glades, moving and trembling and waving 
with the shadows, had something of the effect 
of a thousand phantoms, dark and bright, cross- 
ing each other in an uncertain, hurrying crowd. 
Birds disturbed from their first sleep rustled in 
the leaves ; one of the great dogs that were tied 
behind the house began to howl ; and then with 


1 6 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


sudden flapping noise of wings a large owl left 
its ivy shelter and flew slowly across in the 
moonlight to a distant tree. From there its 
melancholy hoot sounded through the forest, 
and was answered by some friend still farther 
off, whose voice in a lull of the wind was like a 
ghostly echo. 

Old Guillaume shouted fiercely to the howling 
dog, and it was silent. His sons looked at each 
other, and looked at the owl as it flew : only 
Grand-Gui paid no attention to any of these 
sights or sounds, but sat with eyes and ears 
bent to the north-east, to the quarter where the 
village and the chateau lay, and from which he 
expected the news to come. 

He had not very long to wait. In the stillness 
that followed one of those long gusts of wind 
there came a sound of singing that rapidly grew 
nearer. The voice was wild, high-pitched and 
musical, yet with a slight crack in it ; the voice 
of a boy about to grow into a man. A little 
nearer yet, and the words of the song were 
plain, as well as quick irregular footsteps 
crunching the dry leaves along the roadside. 

!li)coute, belle! 

Reveille -toi ! 

Mon coeur t’appelle : 

Viens dans les bois ! 

Then the wind began to howl again, just as a 
small figure came hurrying out of the shadows 
into the mingled twilight and moonlight of 
Guillaume’s clearing. 

All the men rose up at once to receive him. 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 


7 


“You sing, you sing ! *’ cried Grand-Gui 
eagerly, dashing forward. “Then Madame is 
not dead/* 

“No, Madame is not dead,’* the dwarf an- 
swered. ‘‘ But I sing to keep myself alive, let 
me tell you. Did you hear my voice shake ? 
Ah ! Every moment I expected the father of all 
the wolves to spring out upon me. What a 
night of horrors, Pere Guillaume ! There is 
something unearthly in the forest to-night. 
Come, let me sit in the middle of you all. There ! 
Four giants ought to be enough to guard one 
dwarf.** 

This little fellow, as Grand-Gui affectionately 
called him, was indeed a curious contrast to the 
four foresters. He was not much more than 
three feet high, and slightly twisted on one side, 
so that he walked lame. His arms were long 
for his height, and his movements were active, 
but all his strength seemed to be in the high 
spirit and the brave soul that shone in his thin 
face and laughed in his expressive eyes. His 
hair was curled, and he was gaily dressed in 
blue velvet, and wore a little dagger with an 
ornamental hilt. A long feather drooped from 
his small velvet cap. He might have been six- 
teen, but it was difficult to tell his age, which 
he did not himself know. Neither was his real 
name known. At Montaigle they called him 
rOiselet, because he had always been the pet 
singing bird of the chateau. 

Old Guillaume took him with one great hand 
B 


1 8 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


and set him down on the log. He then sat down 
beside him, while Gars-cogne crouched on the 
other side. Grand-Gui and Joli-gars stood in 
front, the younger brother smiling as usual, the 
elder all solemn and abstracted eagerness. 

Now for your news, my son,'* said Guillaume, 
with a gentleness never experienced by his own 
sturdy brood. 

“ Ah ! you thought it was good news, because 
I sang that little song of mine. But I should 
sing that if my heart was breaking, and Madame 
herself would say it was better to sing than to 
weep. I made that, words and tune, the very 
last day that she was sitting at her frame, and 
Mademoiselle on a stool beside her. She said, 
‘ My little bird, your droll words are enough to 
make an old woman young. Who is the fortu- 
nate person that you invite into the woods so 
prettily ? ' I said, ‘ Madame, there is only one 
object of my devotion, and it is not far hence, as 
Madame la Marquise may have guessed by this 
time.' Of course she knew, for I ventured to 
look at my little lady, and she laughed and said 
that I ought to have lived in the days of the 
troubadours, instead of in these modern times 
when romance is dead or dying. I told her that 
in some hearts its spirit lived yet. She smiled — 
that smile which tears one’s heart — and she said, 
‘ It may have a lonely nest here and there, my 
poor bird, but the world in which we really live 
knows nothing of it ! ' Ah, well ! she will find 
it among the saints in Paradise." 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 19 


Old Guillaume frowned and pulled his beard. 
Bewilderment was written on the faces of his 
sons. Only Grand-Gui stared intently and 
nodded his head, for he alone, perhaps, under- 
stood something of what the dwarf had been 
telling them. 

‘‘ What foolish stuft are you talking, boy ? 
growled the old man. ‘‘ If you mean that 
Madame is in Paradise, say it out plainly. But 
if that town doctor with his poisons has sent her 
there, by all that’s holy I and my sons will meet 
him on the road home and break every bone in 
his body.” 

Two of them growled approvingly, but Grand- 
Gui murmured, “No, no, it is not so bad as 
that.” 

“Not so bad as that,” repeated I’Oiselet. 
“ The doctor is still there. Monsieur le Marquis 
will not let him go, though he says it is too late, 
and he can do nothing. And the poor doctor is 
a good man, P^re Guillaume. It is not he that 
will kill Madame with poisons.” 

The dwarf said this in a slow, marked way, 
and his eyes travelled from one face to another. 
If he meant the four to understand anything 
beyond his mere words, it seemed that he had 
failed to gain his object. Only something like 
a growl escaped from the throat of Grand-Gui. 

“ Are they there still ? ” he asked. 

“ Surely they are. They came for the hunt- 
ing, and for something else that lies still nearer 
their hearts, and now they wait to see what may 


20 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


happen to their advantage. I can guess how 
Madame loves them, and what she thinks of 
them and their scheme. Oh yes ! surely you do 
not think that the kind relations of Monsieur le 
Marquis would leave him alone in his sorrow ? 
They will not leave him alone — not yet — but 
when Madame is gone to live in Paradise, my 
friends, her little daughter will not live very 
long at Montaigle. It will be so much safer for 
her, you know, to be under the care of Madame 
la Comtesse de Saint-Gervais. And then Mon- 
seigneur may be alone as long as he likes.'' 

“ Who told you all this rubbish, you little 
rag ? ” asked the old forester. “ You pretend to 
know the affairs of your masters, it seems to me. 
You want flogging." 

“ I only know what I can see with my own 
eyes and hear with my own ears," answered the 
youth, not alarmed by this friendly threat. “ I 
have^ seen Madame's face often enough when 
these plans have been talked of, and heard her 
words. I belong to Madame. Often I lie on 
the floor at her feet when no one notices me — if 
they did, they would not think me worth the 
trouble of sending away. And, father, if you 
knew all that I know about the Saint-Gervais 
brood, it is their bones you would break, and 
not those of the poor harmless doctor." 

Old Guillaume wagged his head and made a 
queer face. 

“ If it would please Madame — Grand-Gui 
murmured. 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 21 


Silence, fool ! '' said his father. You would 
be hanged on the nearest tree. Baudouin would 
see to that, and gladly.'* 

Grand-Gui muttered something between his 
teeth, still keeping his eyes fixed on the face of 
rOiselet. 

Is nothing to be done for Madame, then ? 
he said aloud. 

“ My poor Gui, that is precisely what I said 
to Ma’mselle Agathe half an hour ago. Must 
we all stand round with our hands in our pockets 
then, I said, while the good God takes Madame, 
and other people have it all their own way ? In 
answer she showed me this." 

He hastily unbuttoned his little jacket, and 
took out a folded paper tied with blue ribbon 
and sealed with blue wax. The outside bore no 
address, but there were initials faintly traced 
upon it : “ M. M. G. de R. M." 

L'Oiselet was the only one of the party who 
knew his letters, but these, hardly visible in the 
moonlight, had no meaning for him. He stared 
curiously at them, however, holding up the 
paper in his hand. 

“What did Ma'mselle Agathe say?" asked 
Joli-gars, edging a little nearer to him, his 
girlish cheeks all blushes and dimples. 

“ She sent no message to you, my boy," re- 
plied rOiselet, and Gars-cogne burst into rough 
laughter, which made his brother draw back 
angrily. 

“Come — no more of this fooling," the old 


22 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


father interposed. “ If you have][a message, give 
it. What is the use of that paper ? '' 

“ It is Madame's wish that this paper should 
be carried by a private messenger to the Abbess 
of Fontevrault. Ma’mselle Agathe drove me 
out in a great hurry, and told me not to mention 
this in the chateau. Then she called me back 
and said that as the road to Fontevrault ran 
right through the forest, the messenger could 
not perhaps start till dawn. But in any case it 
was Madame's wish that he should go secretly.'* 
But why not till dawn r asked old Guil- 
laume, bewildered. 

“ For fear of the forest, I suppose.*’ 

“ Go back and tell her that my sons are not 
waiting-maids.*’ 

‘‘Perhaps she thought of danger for Joli- 
gars,” said the irrepressible I’Oiselet, looking 
maliciously at the tall young man, who stamped 
his foot and turned away. 

But then in an instant he stepped forward and 
held out his hand for the paper. 

“ Give me that. I start this moment,** he said 
in a low voice. 

His eldest brother stepped up too, and gave 
him a push. 

“Stand back. No one but I will carry 
Madame’s message.’* 

“No, Gui. I am younger than you, and I 
have been insulted. Give me the paper.’* 

“You shall not have it. Give it to me, 
rOiselet.** 


FOUR GIANTS AND A DWARF 23 


The dwarf kept the paper in his own hand, 
glancing from one to the other, while Gars- 
cogne smiled grimly and said, ‘‘ Fontevrault is 
a long way off. You may fight it out between 
you/’ 

And indeed it seemed that in another moment 
the two men would be fighting, for Joli-gars 
tried in vain to shake off his brother’s grasp on 
his arm. The eyes of both were flashing angrily, 
their faces were flushed, their teeth set ; and 
just then the wind began to howl wildly again, 
and the dogs behind the house joined with it in 
chorus. 

‘‘ Cease your quarrelling, or I strike you both 
over the head with my staff,” cried P^re Guil- 
laume in a terrible voice. “ Grand-Gui will go. 
He is discreet, and his legs are long. Joli-gars 
shall see Master I’Oiselet safe back to the 
chateau ; he is only fit to be with women and 
children who cry out about danger. Peace ! 
Not a word ! Go into the house, Joli-gars, and 
see if the soup is ready. We will all eat a 
mouthful, and go on our ways. You will eat 
with us, lad.” 

They all went inside the four walls blackened 
with smoke, where a long table, two benches, 
and two beds in the wall were the only furni- 
ture. The moon shone in at the open door, and 
by its light and that of a smouldering fire Joli- 
gars poured cabbage soup from a black pot into 
a large wooden bowl on the table, and set on 
smaller bowls and lumps of dry black bread. 


24 THE HEIRESS, OF THE FOREST 


Little Oiselet in his gay suit sat down with the 
four giants, dipped his own bowl in the soup 
and shared their supper. His bright eyes 
danced up and down, watching the four great 
shadows as they flickered about on the wall. 

The supper only lasted a few minutes. Soon 
after, as the moon rose higher, and the wind 
blew more wildly, Grand-Gui's long thin shadow 
ran with him alone through the deep loneliness 
of the forest. Not even his dog was with him. 
He carried a stout stick, and a long knife in his 
belt, but was otherwise unarmed. The Marquise 
de Montaigle’s unaddressed letter lay in a safe 
place next his heart, as faithful a heart as ever 
beat under any letter. He would soon cover 
the distance, a matter of five-and-thirty or forty 
miles, between Montaigle and Fontevrault. 


CHAPTER II 


THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 

Fontevrault, called in old chronicles “ la perle 
des abbayes/' was at this time ruled by ‘‘la reine 
des abbesses/' Madame Gabrielle de Roche- 
chouart de Mortemart. Under her gentle sway, 
influenced by the orderly and stately spirit which 
then reigned from Versailles throughout society, 
the Abbey, always one of the most distinguished 
in France, had become a centre of fine art, good 
manners, literary and polite leisure, without 
losing its more ancient character, dead and re- 
vived from time to time, of a house for religious 
contemplation and charitable work. 

Grand-Gui knew nothing of all this, or of the 
past history, royal and religious, of those old 
white walls and towers. But he did know that 
the Abbess of Fontevrault was a very great lady 
with vast estates and with many priories de- 
pending upon her, and he had heard that her 
peasants loved her, and said it was good to live 
under her rule. In fact, among the hills and 
oak-woods south of the Loire, the people's feel- 
ing passed into a proverb — “ Qu’il fait done bon 
vivre sous la crosse ! ” Evidently it was better 
to owe service to the Abbess of Fontevrault than 


26 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


to the Marquis de Montaigle, for instance. Be- 
yond this, Grand-Gui knew that the Abbess was 
his Madame’s cousin, though, considering the 
short distance that divided them, and that the 
Abbess was sometimes known to visit her Petit 
Fontevrault at La Fleche, which was not far 
from Montaigle, it seemed strange that these 
ladies should never meet. But it was very pos- 
sible that the Marquis might have something to 
do with that. 

All this was on the surface of things. But the 
known character of Madame de Fontevrault em- 
boldened Madame de Montaigle’s messenger. 
He walked and ran through the night without 
a thought of fear or anxiety, though at ordinary 
times he was the most anxious, the most pru- 
dent, the least adventurous of old Guillaume’s 
sons. He troubled himself little about roads or 
pathways, but went straight across country after 
leaving the forest of Montaigle behind, through 
woods and marshes, over wild heathy hills, a 
bleak and little cultivated region, till he crossed 
the Loire by the bridge of Saumur, skirting the 
town at break of day, and in the early morning 
came through clustering oak-woods, the out- 
skirts of the great forest tract which lay south of 
the Loire and the Vienne, and through the large 
village that had grown up round the Abbey 
towers, and to the outer gateway, where a lazy 
porter, the watch-dog of the place, stood yawn- 
ing and looking out across the white paved 
square. 


THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 27 


Grand-Gui was a man of few words. He 
quickened his pace on seeing the porter, ran 
up under the arch of the gateway, and said to 
him gruffly, “ I must see Madame TAbbesse.” 

The porter stared. It was a wild figure 
enough that stood before him, towering over 
him like a giant at a show, with rough clothes 
stained and torn by the hurried night journey, 
and eager eyes shining in the thin brown face. 
At first he thought it was some escaped madman, 
then decided that it was one of Madame’s savage 
peasants from a remote district, who had prob- 
ably killed somebody — a tax-collector, perhaps 
— and had fled to ask for pardon and sanctuary. 
In any case, not a character to be admitted 
within civilised walls, at least without further 
inquiry. 

The porter was wide awake now, and he was 
a sturdy fellow, though Grand-Gui over-topped 
him by more than a head and shoulders. He 
squared himself as he stood in the gateway, 
and grinned defiantly in the stranger’s face. 

'‘You must see Madame ? Well, young man, 
and what for ? To show her the tallest rascal in 
the country ? Come, take yourself off. Madame 
does not care for monsters.’’ 

“ I must see her, I tell you,” repeated Grand- 
Gui, astonished at this reception. 

“You won’t see her, I tell you,” replied the 
porter. 

“ Where is she ? ” 

“ At this moment she is in church, and can- 


28 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


not be disturbed. But don’t deceive yourself. 
Madame does not give audience to all the beg- 
gars in the country. It is not her way.’’ 

“ I am not a beggar,” said Grand-Gui quietly, 
but he grew a little white about the lips, and 
balanced his stick in his hand. 

Why did he not fall upon this man and beat 
him ? Either of his brothers would have done 
so, but Grand-Gui was a thoughtful person, and 
considered consequences. He felt sure that a 
dozen more men would immediately surround 
him, and that even if he killed three or four of 
them, he would be overpowered and carried off 
to prison. And then how would his Madame’s 
errand be accomplished ? 

What are you then ? ” said the porter. ‘‘ Tell 
me your business, and if I think fit, when 
the mass is over, I will send word of it to 
Madame the Grand Prioress. But to Madame 
herself — no ! She has something better to do 
than to listen to the complaints of every wander- 
ing rascal.” 

‘‘I will not tell you my business,” replied 
Grand-Gui. ‘Ht is for the ears of Madame 
TAbbesse alone.” 

Had he not been told to be secret ? 

“ Then it will never reach them, my friend,” 
said the porter, “ for neither you nor your busi- 
ness will pass underneath this archway. Stand 
back, if you please.” 

Grand-Gui did stand back for the moment. 
He stepped from the shadow of the gateway 


THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 29 


into the morning sunshine outside, and lingered 
there, staring through the arch across the great 
courtyard surrounded with stately buildings 
that threw clear-cut shadows on the stones. 
He could see beyond this courtyard into another, 
entered through a second gateway which seemed 
to be unguarded. Beyond, there rose the high 
white walls of the church with its rows of win- 
dows. Slated roofs were shining in the sun, 
gilded vanes flashing. Suddenly a musical 
noise of silver-sounding bells pealed out from 
the belfry, and across the bare and sunny space, 
along through the shadows of a line of arched 
cloisters, Grand-Gui caught sight of a procession 
of black and white figures moving in the dis- 
tance. He was clever enough to guess that the 
service in the church was over, and that now 
was his best chance of fulfilling his mission. He 
stepped forward once more under the archway, 
where the porter, with one eye on this bold 
vagrant all the time, stood carelessly whistling. 

“ Back, my man ! or I’ll shut the gates in 
your face.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when 
he lay like a log on the stones, while a long 
lank figure sprang past him, darting across the 
court and through the second archway , where two 
lay sisters who had left their gate open in fancied 
security while the community was at church, 
rushed out terrified. But Grand-Gui, seeing 
nothing but his object, ran swiftly on across the 
broad sunlit spaces, and finally leaped into the 


30 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


cloister, into the very midst of the procession of 
nuns, some of whom fled screaming before him. 
Others, more courageous, pressed back to guard 
their Abbess from this strange and unexpected 
intrusion. 

Grand-Gui found himself confronted by a little 
phalanx of black veils and pale faces, headed 
by a benevolent-looking elderly nun, who mut- 
tered prayers to the saints and was evidently in 
extreme terror, though she bore the Abbess’s 
crosier high in both hands, and would readily 
have died in her defence. Grand-Gui did his 
best to relieve her alarm. He dropped on one 
knee, snatched off his cap, and looking up into 
the nun’s kind face said in a low voice : “ I 
have a letter for Madame I’Abbesse ; I will give 
it into no hands but her own.” Then he did 
the wisest thing he could have done — he waited 
— and, after a minute or two the alarm and con- 
fusion seemed to cease, the nuns drew back in 
two lines, the timid but heroic bearer of the 
crosier stepped to one side, though keeping 
well in the front, and the Abbess herself, passing 
through the midst, stood before the kneeling 
man. 

A number of her guards had now hastily 
assembled at the second gate, and at a sign 
from her they would have seized the wild pic- 
turesque figure and dragged him away to a 
dungeon. Her servants, in rich liveries, were 
streaming from every corner towards the cloister 
steps where he knelt motionless. But Madame 


THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 31 


de Fontevrault kept them all at a distance with 
a wave of her hand, and also dismissed the 
long procession of nuns. All, with the Mother 
Prioress, went gliding away down the shadowy 
cloister, except the one or two whose special 
offices kept them in attendance on her. 

Grand-Gui looked up into one of the most 
beautiful faces he had ever seen — all the more 
beautiful to him, that he at once saw a certain 
likeness to the Marquise de Montaigle. But 
indeed there were connoisseurs in beauty who 
admired Gabrielle de Rochechouart even more 
than her famous and powerful sister, the Mar- 
quise de Montespan. She was now thirty-five, 
and had been ten years Abbess of Fontevrault. 
When royal favour brought her there, so young 
and without experience, great discontent was 
shown by the community. The appointment 
was regarded as a scandal, which indeed it was ; 
but such scandals were of frequent occurrence 
in the French Church, though they did not so 
often justify themselves by their results. It was 
not long before Madame Gabrielle had won all 
hearts in her abbey. Her success here was 
equal to her success at Versailles, where she 
gained and kept the reverence of a corrupt court 
and an absolute king. 

In the Abbess's smile, as she looked at the 
wild tall man kneeling before her, there was 
that enchanting mixture of humour and sweet- 
ness which belonged, more or less, to all the 
Mortemarts. 


32 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“Stand up, good man,’* she said. “Who are 
you, and where do you come from ? ” 

Grand-Gui did not move from his lowly posi- 
tion till he had extracted the precious letter, 
which he held out timidly by one corner towards 
the Abbess’s slender fingers. 

“ Madame,” he said, “ I come from Montaigle. 
My name is Guillaume, and I am the foster- 
brother of Madame la Marquise.” 

“Indeed!” said the Abbess. “But what — is 
this letter for me ? I see no address — except — 
Look, Mother de la Mothaye ; what do you think 
of this ? ” 

She held it out to the nun who carried her 
crosier. 

“ Pardon, Madame. I have not my spectacles 
— but those are your initials, Madame, are they 
not ? Still, a very strange and informal and 
most unbecoming style of addressing a letter. I 
do not understand what it means. Would it be 
better not to open the letter, Madame, till this 
unusual kind of messenger has been examined 
further ? There may be some foul play.” 

“ You are always careful, dear Mother,” mur- 
mured the Abbess, with a little hesitation. 
“ How did you come by the letter, friend ? ” she 
said, turning again to Grand-Gui, who now 
looked rather formidable, having risen to his full 
height, from which he gazed down gravely on 
the company. 

“ Will Madame permit me ? ” and a grey- 
headed man in livery, with a bustling manner, 


THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 33 


hurried up to the group. ‘‘ This man, whoever 
he is — this messenger — ^has killed Giraud, or 
almost killed him. He is dangerous : allow us 
to take charge of him.’' 

The Abbess did not draw back or show the 
slightest alarm, but her kind eyes became stern 
as she looked at the culprit. 

“ What does this mean ? You have been 
fighting with my servants ? ” 

“ Madame, the man at the gate would not let 
me in. It was necessary that I should knock him 
down, but he is not dead. I struck him lightly.'^ 

‘‘But we are not used to these rough and 
savage ways,” said the steward. “ Giraud did 
his duty. If you had told him your business 
peaceably ” 

“ I was not going to tell my business to any 
one but Madame TAbbesse herself. My Madame 
said that it was secret,” answered Grand-Gui. 

“ Madame, shall we take him ? ” said the 
steward. 

“ No, no. He says he is the foster-brother of 
my cousin, the Marquise de Montaigle. He 
looks honest. It will be time enough if Giraud 
dies, and I do not think he will die ; he has a 
thick head. I am not sure, besides, that he has 
discretion enough for a porter. It is not the 
first time that I have thought so. Explain your- 
self more fully, messenger. Did Madame de 
Montaigle send me this letter by you ? And 
secretly ? There is some mystery here that I do 
not understand.” 

C 


34 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


“ Madame, I do not know what the mystery 
is,’* said Grand-Gui humbly. “ But last night, 
as I sat with my father and brothers at the door 
of our house, FOiselet, the dwarf, came from the 
chateau and told us that Madame was still alive, 
but that the doctor from La Fleche could do 
nothing. There are guests at the chateau. 
There is Madame la Comtesse de Saint-Gervais, 
and there is her son, to whom they talk of 
marrying our little demoiselle. I have heard 
that Madame la Marquise is not pleased at the 
marriage, and truly I think no one is — no one 
who has seen Monsieur Jean. But what is to be 
done ? There is Madame on her death-bed. I 
know no more, except that her woman gave that 
letter to TOiselet, and told him it was to be 
carried secretly to Madame TAbbesse. I started 
last night, and here I am, at Madame’s service. 
I am sorry I struck the porter, but I could not 
help it.” 

“ Mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! ” sighed the Abbess, 
who had been listening intently to this, perhaps 
the longest speech Grand-Gui had ever made. 
“ My cousin on her death-bed ! What sorrowful 
news ! Has she been long ill ? And the letter — 
ah, now I know, I remember ! That I could 
ever have forgotten, mon Dieu! Poor angel! 
this touches me indeed.” 

As she spoke thus, low and hurriedly, she 
broke the seal and tore the ribbon from the 
paper in her hand. It was yellow, and worn at 
the edges. Within there were a few lines written 


THE ABBEY OF FONTEVRAULT 35 


by a different hand from that which had traced 
the initials outside. 

“Wherever I am, in any part of the known 
world, I will fly to my most dear Diane when 
she sends me this paper. My love and help 
shall be hers till the last day of my life, and my 
unworthy prayers for ever. Marie-Madeleine- 
Gabrielle de Rochechouart de Mortemart.*' 

Tears gathered in Madame de Fontevrault's 
beautiful eyes and fell on the letter. She had 
turned away from Grand-Gui to her faithful 
chapelaine, and she hastily put it into her hand, 
saying : “ There, my dear Mother, read that : it 
is the record of an old friendship. I wrote that 
and gave it to my cousin Diane when we were 
young girls together at T Abbaye-aux-Bois, before 
they separated us and made that marriage for 
her. It was a separation indeed, and now it 
seems her little daughter — In any case, she 
has sent for me. Leblanc ! ” 

The grey-headed steward came forward and 
bowed. 

“ My great coach with outriders in two hours’ 
time. I am going to the Chateau de Montaigle.” 

“ Pardon ! Madame knows the badness of the 
road, and then there is the forest. To be sure 
of reaching Montaigle by daylight, she should 
have started an hour ago.” 

“What does that matter? I shall arrive,” 
said the Abbess. “ And— Leblanc ! ” 

“ Madame ! ” 

“ This poor man has hurried across country, I 


36 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


suspect without rest or food, to summon me to 
the death-bed of my cousin Madame de Mont- 
aigle, nee de Grandseigne.” 

‘‘ Is it possible ! 

‘‘ See that he has breakfast immediately, and 
a comfortable bed to sleep in as long as he 
pleases. Treat him as your guest, Leblanc.” 

As the Abbess moved away along the cloister 
she murmured again to herself, “ Mon Dieu, mon 
Dieu ! Poor Diane ! Yes, the little daughter is 
a great heiress, no doubt. Large estates — and 
then one has heard of the treasures at Montaigle. 
And those Saint-Gervais are actually made of 
intrigue — and see what a character they bear, 
even among the peasants. Evidently there is a 
struggle before me.” 

When she reached her own rooms she said to 
the Mere de la Mothaye : “ What do you think 
of this hurried expedition, Mother ? It seems to 
you romantic ? I assure you it is necessary.” 

“Madame, you know best,” said the chapelaine, 
“ Certainly it is rather like an adventure in the 
Middle Ages.” 

“It may be so — it may be so,” said the Abbess 
thoughtfully. “ But now oblige me by sending 
to ask the Mother Prioress if she will be good 
enough^to come to me. I cannot tell how long 
I may be absent, and there is much to arrange/* 


CHAPTER III 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 

It was not more than four-and-twenty hours 
since Grand-Gui had left the Forest of Mont- 
aigle, when he found himself again running 
through its depths, in the train of the Abbess of 
Fontevrault. The first beauty of the day had 
clouded over, and once more the autumn wind 
was blowing, and all through the afternoon, as 
the coach, with its six horses, outriders, and 
running footmen, ploughed and laboured its way 
through the heavy or stony roads, across a 
country which had not long ago been very dan- 
gerous and even now was not too safe, wild 
storms of rain came driving over from the west, 
half blinding horses and men and making the 
slow progress slower. 

The moon hardly rose in time to light them 
through the forest, and when she did rise there 
was only a vague confusing glimmer through 
the dark hurrying clouds and the rocking tree- 
tops. The new road, however, was plain enough, 
and Grand - Gui ran in front to guide the 
postilions, while torches lit by some of the 
men flared from side to side, sometimes blown 


38 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


right out by the wind tearing through glade or 
gully, sometimes making a fine blaze round the 
coach and plunging the shadowy woodland into 
deeper darkness. 

At last the cavalcade, trampling and rumbling 
on its way, came to a sudden and unexpected 
halt. The shouts of men mingled with the 
long howling gusts of wind, and brought great 
alarm to the M^re de la Mothaye, who, by the 
Abbess’s command, opened the window and put 
out her head into the stormy evening. 

“ Madame,” she said, “ may the Blessed Vir- 
gin preserve us ! I believe we have fallen into 
a den of robbers. Where are we ? I have no 
idea. The whole thing may be a trick, and that 
enormous man may be one of the gang. There 
was something very strange in his looks; I 
thought so from the first, as the Reverend 
Mothers here will bear me witness. I believe 
we are in danger of our lives, madame ! ” 

“ I hope not, dear Mother,” said Madame de 
Fontevrault from the depths of the coach. “ In 
that case we must prepare to die bravely. But 
where are the men ? Call some of them. Mother, 

I beg of you. We will at least know the reason 
why we are losing time.” 

“Yes, madame. , Pierre, Barnab^, Philippe, 
Marc, Michel ! — Holy Virgin ! I see more 
giants. And what is that ? A dwarf! This is 
a terrible journey. Ah, there is Barnabe. What 
is the meaning of this delay and all these ter- 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


39 


rors ? Madame is extremely displeased, — do 
you hear ? What are those men ? 

Barnabe was the head groom and chief of the 
escort. He rode the Abbess’s best horse, which 
capered at the coach door as if its journey was 
only just begun, and rather interrupted his 
hurried explanations. 

Madame ! Pardon, madame ! Nothing is 
wrong. Reverend Mother. It is only — stand 
still, beast ! — it is only a message from the 
Chateau de Montaigle.” 

“ Where is the messenger ? ” 

It was the Abbess who spoke, and at her com- 
mand the coach door was opened. She saw a 
group of tall, wild-looking men, of whom Grand- 
Gui was still the tallest, and in the midst of them 
a small gaily-dressed figure, with yellow locks 
flying in the wind. One of his companions lifted 
him to the step of the coach. Torches were 
flaming about him. They also lighted up the 
beautiful earnest face of the Abbess as she 
leaned forward anxiously. 

“ Madame la Marquise has sent me to meet 
Madame TAbbesse,” TOiselet said, his eager 
eyes raised to hers, his small face very pale. 

She knew that madame would come to her — 
but she asks the favour that madame will insist 
on seeing her alone — quite alone. She has 
things to say — the last wishes of a dying per- 
son — madame will understand.” 

But certainly. There is no hope, then ? ” 


40 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“Ah, no! Madame la Marquise is dying — 
dying.” 

“And Monsieur le Marquis — does he know 
that I am coming ? ” 

“No, madame. No one knows but myself, 
and madam e's woman, and her foster-father and 
brothers, who are here.” 

“ Will there be any diiliculty at the chateau — 
in admitting us, for instance ? ” asked Madame de 
Fontevrault, not so much to satisfy any doubts 
of her own as to remove the consternation 
painted on the face of the M^re de la Mothaye. 

“ I think not, madame. But haste, haste be- 
fore all things.” 

The dwarf's face was even more eager than his 
words, and his eyes, as he gazed at the Abbess, 
seemed to her full of terror and warning. 

“ Remain at the coach door, boy,” she said. 
“ I have other questions to ask. En avant, 
Barnabe — to the chateau.” 

Once more the cavalcade tramped and rumbled 
on, rOiselet riding on the broad step of the coach, 
and from time to time answering the Abbess 
through the open window. Once more, at the 
outskirts of the forest, before they entered the 
village of Montaigle, the Abbess ordered a 
stoppage, descended with her attendant nuns, 
and prayed for a few minutes, careless of de- 
scending sheets of rain, at the foot of the old 
Calvary which stands by the roadside there, with 
fresh flowers and green boughs piled for ever 
about it. One after another the torches were 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


41 


blown out in that exposed place, but not be- 
fore their light had flamed very strangely and 
solemnly on the Figure with outstretched arms 
lifted high above the two weeping, adoring forms 
of St. John and St. Mary Magdalene. The dark- 
ness here was not so deep, and the moon, rising 
a little higher, suffused the clouds with white- 
ness. 

The cottages and small farms of the village 
were scattered along each side of a long strag- 
gling street, in the midst of which the church 
and churchyard stood on slightly rising ground. 
On each side, to the north and south of the vil- 
lage, low meadows with lines of poplars, shadowy 
in the dusk, lay along the valley of a small stream 
that ran into the river Loir. At the end of the 
village the road crossed a narrow stone bridge 
over the bed of the shallow stream, and then 
mounted a steep and rough ascent between 
rounded masses of walnut and chestnut trees. 
Here it was barred suddenly by a high pair of 
iron gates between two round towers. 

These gates swung slowly back after a minute's 
delay, and with a loud cracking of whips, and 
much plunging of tired horses urged to their 
utmost so as to dash up the last ascent in becom- 
ing style, the Abbess's cavalcade went clattering 
up a white paved road, between white walls and 
buildings partly overhung by great trees which 
cast their heavy shadows in the torchlight. 
Then the coach rumbled under an archway 
into a silent square of shuttered windows, deep 


42 


THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


down beneath high ridges of roof and towers 
that seemed to soar into the sky. It drew up 
at the foot of a double flight of steps in the 
centre of the principal building. All the run- 
ning escort, the wild figures from the forest, the 
dwarf messenger in his gay jacket, had dis- 
appeared by this time ; only the Abbess's head 
groom and four outriders attended her into 
these inner precincts of the ch^eau. In the 
distance, in the yards below, there was a chorus 
of barking dogs, but here the darkness and 
silence gave a strange sort of welcome, and 
Mother de la Mothaye's mind, at least, was full 
of undefined fears as she looked nervously out 
of the window. 

But in fact there was only a delay of two or 
three minutes before servants with lights came 
hurrying, the fat major-domo at their head, and 
the news of the Abbess’s arrival seemed to have 
been carried by magic throughout the castle. 
For no sooner were the doors set open than a 
quiet little gentleman appeared, advancing from 
the sombre background of the great dimly-lit 
hall. He descended the steps as the Abbess 
got out of her coach, and bov/ed with stiff but 
courtly grace over the hand she held out to him. 

“You are surprised to see me, monsieur," the 
Abbess began. 

“ If I am surprised, madame, I am also and 
still more honoured," replied the Marquis de 
Montaigle, solemnly. 

The Abbess thanked him. “ Still,'’ she said, 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


43 


“ I feel that my arrival in this unexpected fashion 
needs an apology. Will you receive it ? 

He bowed again. His manner was naturally 
so dry and expressionless that it was difficult to 
know whether he was pleased or angry. 

‘‘Poor Diane ! If she has not become a piece 
of wood herself by this time, it is wonderful,’* 
thought the Abbess. 

“ My apology and my excuse are one thing, 
monsieur,” she said, very gently and graciously. 
“ Your wife is my cousin, as you know : we were 
intimate friends eighteen years ago, and on hear- 
ing the news of her illness, I felt that I must for 
the sake of old times venture on a visit. May 
I dare to hope that the news which reached me 
was exaggerated — that her illness is less serious 
than report represents it ? ” 

The Marquis threw up his hands. “ Ah, 
madame ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ I am not too late ? 

“ Not altogether too late. I have sent for the 
Cur6 as a witness in some legal business, and 
after that I expect that he will think the last 
sacraments necessary. The family is assembled 
in her room, taking leave of her. Do you wish 
to see her ? I doubt whether she will recognise 
you. Later, perhaps, for a moment, after the 
Cure has been here. I do not know, indeed — 
the family are all there — another person might 
agitate her. She is feverish and excitable. 
Weak as she is, she stares about the room and 
listens to every sound. I ought to be there — 


44 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


but a few minutes ago I felt that I could bear 
it no longer. I came down here into the hall 
and walked up and down, waiting for the Cure. 
Thus I heard your coach drive up. Let me lead 
you into the salon, and I will order supper. You 
will excuse any confusion. We are rough people 
here — it is a long way from Versailles, madame.'' 

A faint flush rose in Madame de Fontevrault’s 
cheeks, for she understood his hidden meaning. 
She had heard much of the ferocious disposition 
of the Marquis de Montaigle, who shut himself 
up here in this half-fortified stronghold, in the 
midst of his huge estates, and lived in passive 
opposition to the will of the King, which was 
that all his nobles should worship personally 
round his throne. She had heard also that 
Monsieur de Montaigle always bore his wife 
a grudge for being the first cousin of Madame 
de Montespan. Unlike most men of his time, 
he was not ready to bow down to immorality 
because the King had made it fashionable. In 
consequence of this, the character he bore at 
Versailles was that of a bear, a savage, almost 
a rebel. In consequence of this, too, his wife 
had never been able to keep up any connection 
with the Abbey of Fontevrault and its Superior. 
Thus the Abbess had good reason for doubting 
the sort of reception she might meet with from 
her cousin's husband ; and on the whole she 
was pleasantly surprised. In her heart she felt 
some respect for the little Marquis's moral 
strictness : even she herself had been accused 


0 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 45 

of Jansenist opinions by the easy-going world 
of that day — and she was inclined to forgive his 
sour and unmannerly fling at Versailles, and 
only to notice the evident sincerity of his grief 
for his wife. 

“Disagreeable, but honest,’* she thought to 
herself. “ Uneasy and suspicious — perhaps be- 
cause I am a Mortemart, perhaps because it is 
his natural character ; but yet a man whom any 
clever woman should be able to manage. Poor 
Diane was always too gentle, too like my poor 
mother. What would she have become, par 
exemple, married to a husband like this ? A 
very strange little man, to be sure — and his 
clothes are almost threadbare ! By the bye, 
they always said he was a miser. And has 
Madame de Saint-Gervais really so much in- 
fluence here ? ” 

In answer to the Marquis, Madame de Fonte- 
vrault said, “ My cousin, who that has a house 
like yours, or like mine, in our beautiful Anjou, 
cares to spend much time away from it? No 
supper for me, thank you. And do not take me 
into the salon, but to your wife’s room. I know 
something of medicine, and possibly — but in any 
case, the affection of an old friend will not hurt 
her.’' 

“The room is full of people,” the Marquis 
muttered uncertainly. 

Madame de Fontevrault looked him straight 
in the face. 

“ Who are they ? ” she said. “ Send them all 


46 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


away at least for a few minutes. I am one of 
your wife’s nearest relations, and as young girls 
we loved each other. Do not doubt me. It is 
not I who would blame you for keeping Diane 
away from Versailles. You cannot imagine 
that I love that atmosphere.*' 

“ But why, then, madame ? " 

“Why do I go there myself? Why have I 
just returned, as you may probably have heard, 
from a long visit there? Cousin, duty leads 
each of us in a different path. Only trust my 
good intentions, and take me to our dear Diane." 

Whatever the influence of Madame de Saint- 
Gervais might be, the beauty, the dignity, the 
frankness, the evident goodness, the charm of 
manner, the Mortemart way of saying things, 
to which Monsieur de Montaigle succumbed at 
once like other people without knowing what 
it was that conquered him — all this quite over- 
came that influence for the moment. He bowed, 
and the Abbess's wish became law. 

“ Follow me, madame," he said, and they dis- 
appeared together, the two alone, up the great 
cold staircase and through the dismal unfur- 
nished corridors and passages of the old house. 

The wind screamed outside, rattling the vanes 
on the towers, but the strongest tempest that 
ever blew would hardly have shaken those walls 
ten or twelve feet thick and as old as the Crusades. 
The Marquis, carrying a light in his hand, went 
on first and silently ; the Abbess in her long 
white habit followed him. The memory of her 


AN UNINVITED GUEST 


47 


cousin as a gentle, pretty, affectionate girl of 
seventeen was strongly present in her mind. 
Poor Diane! Sixteen years of marriage with 
a dry stick like this, even then ugly and shabby 
in appearance, though one of the noblest and 
richest men in France, and old enough to 
be her father I Sixteen years of imprisonment 
in this rugged old fortress 1 It did not seem 
wonderful that the tender spirit should spread 
its wings for flight. 

Suddenly the Marquis stopped, and lifted the 
latch of a heavy door, which groaned as he 
pushed it open. 

“ This is one way into my wife’s room,” he said. 
“ In this room, which we call the upper guard- 
room, one of my ancestresses is supposed to 
wait for the souls of those who pass away in the 
inner chamber there, where our family usually 
die. For me, I have no such superstition — nor 
you, madame, I suppose? At any rate, the 
room is empty now.” 

Madame de Fontevrault hesitated a moment. 
As he opened the door and turned to speak to 
her, she had distinctly seen a dark figure flit 
across between himself and the high uncurtained 
windows, in deep recesses, which looked out 
into the night. Her ears too had caught a 
step on the uneven brick floor. 

“ I hope your ancestress may have long to 
wait, this time,” she said in her most gentle and 
even tones. “You will really grant me the 
favour of seeing my cousin alone ? ” 


48 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


‘‘You shall have your way, Madame TAb- 
besse,** he answered 'a little roughly, and led 
the way across the empty, echoing guard-room, 
through a curtained archway, and across another 
room stiffly furnished with rows of chairs, into 
the high dark chamber where so many Mon- 
taigles had died. There was no light in the 
anteroom except what the Marquis carried, and 
no one was to be seen there, but Madame de 
Fontevrault was quite sure that quick steps 
flew on almost noiselessly before them, and that 
the curtain over the bedroom door was still 
shaking when the Marquis touched it. It sounds 
almost heartless, but a smile curled her lips as 
she stepped forward into the presence of her 
dying cousin ; an involuntary smile given to the 
thought : “ What terrors for the dear Mother de 
la Mothaye, if she were only here ! 


CHAPTER IV 


DIANE 

In spite of the calm stateliness of her exterior, 
so worthy of the great community she ruled, 
Madame Gabrielle was woman of the world 
enough to enjoy the discomfiture of the Mon- 
taigle family party which had gathered round 
her poor cousin's death-bed. It was as Diane's 
messenger had said. There was the Marquis's 
distant cousin but nearest relation, Alexandre 
de Montaigle, Comte de Saint-Gervais, tall, 
graceful, courtier-like, dressed in the latest 
fashion ; and his wife, small, slender, deter- 
mined, with bright crafty eyes that saw every- 
thing; and his son, the Vicomte de Vassy, a 
clumsy youth of twenty. There also was the 
doctor from La Fleche in his spectacles; and 
another little official, who looked like a notary, 
keeping guard over a table with papers lying on 
it ; and Master Baudouin, steward and regisseur, 
keeping guard over him ; and two waiting- 
women and several other servants in the back- 
ground. Near the door, separate from the rest, 
stood a handsome boy of fifteen, watching the 


50 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

scene with wide blue eyes in a half frightened, 
half fascinated way. 

In the centre of the dimly-lighted room, raised 
on a dais from the floor, there was an enormous 
bedstead with heavy curtains, now all drawn 
back. Something very wasted and shadowy 
lay on a pile of embroidered pillows ; and thrown 
at full length across the dark velvet counter- 
pane, ^the most conspicuous object in the room, 
lay the figure of a child in a white frock, with 
long brown locks that hid its face, escaping 
from their usual bondage. 

One of the sick woman’s arms, the hand and 
wrist painfully thin, lay round the child’s neck. 
Her women, with the doctor’s help, had just 
restored her from a fainting attack following on 
a paroxysm of coughing. After each of these 
attacks they said that she could not live through 
another. But still it seemed that she was 
stronger than they knew. The colour flamed 
up again in the pale face, and the eyes wan- 
dered round and round the room, as if seeking 
for somebody who was not there ; then they fell 
and rested with unspeakable sadness on the 
soft outline of the child, who clung there and 
resisted all persuasions and commands to leave 
her mother. 

“Never in all my experience, did I see a 
child so absolutely wicked, disobedient, and un- 
disciplined,” said Madame de Saint-Gervais, 
standing at the foot of the bed. “ Only wait a 
little. Mademoiselle Renee. Your father will be 


DIANE 


51 


here directly, and you will be taken away by 
main force. Even now the servants — with your 
help, monsieur,’' turning to the doctor, who 
shook his head. 

“Wait — wait — ^you are too impatient,” said 
the lazy voice of her husband from his chair. 
“Why make all this disturbance? In a few 
hours you will do what you like with the 
child.” 

He was considerate enough to speak low, so 
that his words should not reach the head of the 
bed. But as it was they were heard by ears he 
did not calculate upon, for Monsieur de Mon- 
taigle and his new guest had silently entered 
the room and were passing close to his chair. 
Rising quickly, he met a glance from the Abbess 
of Fontevrault which sent a feeling of discom- 
fort even through the thick skin of his philo- 
sophy. 

“ Once a Mortemart, always a Mortemart,” he 
said to his wife later, with a bitter laugh. “ The 
nun’s coif makes no difference.” 

“ Did you ever think that she was better than 
the others ? I detest them all,” answered the 
Countess between her teeth. 

But no outward show of unfriendly feeling was 
possible in Madame de Montaigle’s sick-room, 
and if the Saint-Gervais felt that the game was 
suddenly taken out of their hands, they had no 
means at that moment of making any resistance. 
It was necessary to reserve themselves, for the 
Marquis gave them no time even to realise what 


52 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


had happened. M. de Saint-Gervais had hardly 
straightened his back again after a most low and 
reverential bow to the Abbess of Fontevrault, his 
wife had hardly risen from her curtsey that swept 
the ground, when the master of the house, having 
led his guest past them all into the shadow of 
the curtains, up the two low steps by which the 
great bedstead was removed from the rest of the 
room, turned round and said very distinctly : 

“ My cousins, and all who are here, be good 
enough to leave us alone. Madame TAbbesse 
de Fontevrault has travelled here to-night to pay 
a private visit to my wife.’* 

The delicate face and neck of Madame de 
Saint-Gervais became crimson. She had often 
found it difi&cult to endure her cousin Montaigle’s 
unceremonious manners, but to be sent out of 
the room pell-mell with servants, doctor, and 
notary was almost more than she could bear. 
She stood her ground for an instant, while her 
husband retreated obediently towards the door. 

“ And the little Renee — will she go with me, 
dear cousin?** she said in a thin voice which 
quivered a little, though meant to be calm and 
sweet. ‘‘For the last hour she has only made 
her poor mother more feverish, and if Madame 
de Fontevrault has anything serious to say, she 
will certainly be a sad distraction.*’ 

Monsieur de Montaigle turned to the Abbess, 
who bent her head, and herself, leaning tenderly 
over the dying woman, gently removed her arm 
from the child’s neck. 


DIANE 


53 


“ Go away quietly, little one,'^ she whispered 
to the child, “for your dear mother's sake. You 
shall come back to her presently — it is I who 
tell you so — your aunt De Rochechouart : you 
will believe me ? " 

The child said nothing, but after a long look 
she quietly allowed her father to lift her from the 
bed. Madame de Saint-Gervais held out her 
hand to lead her away, a faint smile of triumph 
hovering about her lips and eyes. Behind her 
in the twilight loomed the sturdy figure of her 
son, and on his sulky face a look of something 
like pleasure replaced the vague uneasiness 
caused by the Abbess of Fontevrault's arrival. 
Monsieur Jean was ambitious enough to share 
in his father and mother’s schemes, and keen 
enough, with all his half-animal stupidity, to see 
that the safe possession of the little heiress was 
almost necessary to their future success. 

But Mademoiselle Ren4e, if she had left her 
mother in obedience to the new voice and eyes 
which spoke to her little heart with such irre- 
sistible power, was by no means less rebellious, 
less independent, or more ready to be led quietly 
away by a hand she detested. She glanced 
quickly round in the half-darkness through her 
streaming hair, then sprang like a young fawn 
from the dais, and darted with a low cry of 
“Nico, Nico !” towards the great door that led 
to the staircase, flinging herself into the arms 
of the boy who stood there waiting for his elders 
to pass out before him. He blushed to the roots 


54 the heiress of THE FOREST 


of his fair curly hair, but received the flying 
child with perfect grace and readiness. Half 
carrying her as she clung desperately round his 
neck, with a quick glance over his shoulder at 
Madame de Saint-Gervais, he fled from the room 
without any more formalities. 

“That Nicolas again!’’ Monsieur Jean de 
Vassy might have been heard to mutter. “ One 
of these days I must teach him not to meddle 
with my property.’’ 

Monsieur de Montaigle lingered in the room 
till everybody was gone, and then without a 
word withdrew himself into the anteroom 
through which he had brought the Abbess a few 
minutes before. As he walked across into the 
guardroom, carrying a candlestick in his hand, 
he was this time conscious of a figure that flitted 
before him and slipped into the dark recess of 
the window. He thought he heard whispers 
through the crying of the Jwind. He stopped 
short, and though he was neither cowardly nor 
superstitious, a chilly shiver seized him. Who 
was this, lurking so near his dying wife’s room ? 
Was there anything in the old story after all ? 

“ What is that ? Who are you ? ” he said 
sharply. 

He almost blushed with shame at his mo- 
mentary weakness when a slim dark-eyed 
woman came forward at once into the flickering 
light of his candle. “It is I — Agathe — Monsieur 
le Marquis,” she said. 

“ Get you gone, then,” he answered angrily. 


DIANE 


55 


“ I will have no one loitering and listening at 
doors — do you hear ? Your mistress does not 
want you now.” 

‘‘ Ah, pardon, monsieur,” said Agathe, shaking 
her head with a smile, “ madame always wants 
me. I do nothing without her orders, and it is 
by her wish that I am waiting here. And I 
know quite enough without listening at doors.” 

“ I suspect you do ! ” muttered the Marquis. 
“ The best women gossip with their servants, it 
seems.” He was always sorry to come within 
reach of Mademoiselle Agathe’s tongue, and 
had long felt a dull kind of jealousy of his wife’s 
favourite waiting-woman. If it is her wish — ” 
he grumbled on. “Yes, it maybe as well to 
have a servant within call. But only yourself, 
Agathe. No one else, remember. Did I hear 
you talking as I came into the room r ” 

“Talking, monsieur! to whom should I talk? 
Truly it would be pleasant to have a companion 
on a night like this. Not that I have any heart 
for talking, indeed. Monsieur le Marquis may 
well have heard me sigh.” 

“ What is that in the corner — in the window ? ” 

“A chair, monsieur. The large chair with 
cushions, where madame used to sit sometimes 
to look out at the stars.” 

“ Ah 1 ” grunted the Marquis. 

Elis candle seemed to throw more shadows 
than light as he raised it and peered into the 
recess. Perhaps there was only a chair. Not 
that he believed a word the woman said ; but he 


56 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


could not examine more closely without pushing 
past her, which was impossible; and after all it 
did not matter much. 

“ You are not afraid to wait here alone in the 
dark, Agathe ? he said. 

“ I have eyes like a cat, monsieur. The darker 
it is the better I can see.*’ 

He walked on without saying more. The 
rooms echoed with his steady tread ; his light, 
gradually disappearing, flickered on the walls 
and ceiling. He crossed the guardroom beyond, 
and its heavy door clanged after him. Agathe 
retreated into the recess, where there was in fact 
a great chair with cushions. There was also 
somebody crouching behind it, who raised him- 
self with a low laugh as Agathe took her seat 
in the chair. 

“ Hush, hush, little fool ! ** she said hastily. 
“ If the poor master does not know his friends, 
we must teach him — voila ! Now go and fetch 
the children, but as quietly as a mouse, mind ! 
We have stopped that little game for the mo- 
ment, but I don’t like trusting Mademoiselle 
Renee out of my sight.*’ 

All through the great Chateau de Montaigle 
there was a feeling of restless anxiety, in which 
servants and their masters seemed alike to share. 
Almost furiously, in their own rooms, the Saint- 
Gervais family discussed the unexpected arrival 
which had overthrown their plans for the 
moment. The notary actually there, the promise 
of betrothal written out, which was to be signed 


DIANE 


57 


by responsible relations and to make the mar- 
riage of Jean de Montaigle, Vicomte de Vassy, 
with his cousin Renee de Montaigle — but the 
names and particulars of these two young 
people stretched through several lines of 
cramped writing — an almost certain event in 
the future, besides making the Saint-Gervais 
family natural guardians of the little heiress 
in case of her father’s death ! And now the 
entrance of an uninvited guest brought delay 
at least to all this satisfactory settlement. 
Uninvited ! there seemed no doubt of that. 
The Marquis was not a man of intrigue and 
mystery ; not at all the person to send for the 
Abbess of Fontevrault without speaking of his 
intention. Besides, he was well known to 
dislike the Mortemart family as much as his 
relations did. Why and how had the reverend 
lady appeared at this most unfortunate moment? 
It seemed very like some inspiration from 
Versailles, some deep-laid plot to foil the 
Saint-Gervais plans. Yet this sounded almost 
too presumptuous, considering that Madame de 
Montespan’s star was waning fast in this year 
1680, while that of Madame de Maintenon, 
already an honoured friend of Madame de 
Saint-Gervais, was gradually rising higher. 
But the Mortemart insolence might still be 
equal to anything. 

In another part of the chateau the M^re de 
la Mothaye, and the other nuns who had accom- 
panied Madame de Fontevrault, sat together in 


THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

a state of some impatience and anxiety. The 
good chapelaine was troubled with the thought 
that her beloved Superior should have gone 
away alone into the depths of this great savage 
house, which seemed to her perfectly terrifying. 
In the room where she and the nuns sat nothing 
was to be heard but the wild voice of the storm 
which roared round the towers. Madame might 
be in the sorest need of help and companionship : 
how were her faithful nuns to know ? Mother 
de la Mothaye crossed herself at these thoughts 
and struck her breast many times. It seemed 
clear that she ought to have insisted on her 
right of attending the Abbess wherever she 
went. It was her own fault, her own weakness. 

“I have no strength of mind, no character. 
I am not fit for my post. I shall tell the dear 
madame so, if ever I am happy enough to see 
her again.” 

In kitchen and stables the servants were 
talking, and by the help of the Abbess’s grooms 
knew something more than their masters, though 
they were of course ignorant of the full meaning 
and consequence of what had happened. The 
steward and the major-domo were wise men, 
admirers of the rising sun ; but in spite of their 
influential posts, they were almost alone on the 
side of the Saint-Gervais family. 

Amidst all this varied confusion two children 
had stolen away together, the boy trying, not 
quite in vain, to comfort his companion in an 
agony of sobs and tears. 


DIANE 


59 


Young Nicolas d*Aumont had spent most of 
his childhood as a page at Montaigle. He was 
the only child of the Comte d’Aumont's second 
marriage, a somewhat romantic affair, and his 
father, dying soon after, had left his old friend 
Monsieur de Montaigle guardian to the boy. It 
was not a good arrangement from a worldly point 
of view, for it separated Nicolas from his two 
brothers, much older than himself and high in 
favour in Versailles. He was now about to be- 
gin life, however, with a commission in one of 
the King’s regiments of dragoons. He and 
Renee had been playfellows from her infancy ; 
she was Nice’s little love; but the necessary 
separation of their future lives, of which Ren6e 
herself was still quite unconscious, threw its 
shadow already over him. He w^as old enough, 
too, to understand something of what life had in 
store for Renee, and to be troubled by the 
thought of it. 

The Marquis came down into the great hall, 
and walked up and down there with a moody 
countenance. He was still waiting for the Cur6, 
who had in fact been summoned to a sick man 
in the village ; but the delay did not matter 
now. With a dull, dead sadness, perhaps even 
more pathetic than violent grief. Monsieur de 
Montaigle thought of his dying wife in the great 
chamber upstairs. What a smile Diane had 
given that cousin of hers, and with what a move- 
ment of long-sought peacefulness her head had 
nestled down into the Abbess’s supporting arm ! 


6o THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Friends in youth ! well, what harm is there r 
What right have my cousins of Saint-Gervais 
to complain ? It was a happy chance — what 
chance, I wonder? — that carried the news of 
Diane’s illness to her cousin of Fontevrault, and 
it was a good action on her part to visit us. I 
believe she is a good woman, whatever they say, 
and upon my faith she is a handsome one ! 
They shall have their way, those two — my poor 
Diane and her cousin. They shall be together 
as long as they please, and no relations of mine 
shall come between them. I am still master in 
my house, though I believe some people think — 
Voila Monsieur le Cure — no, it is the wind— 
what a night ! what a night ‘for a poor soul to 
pass away in ! ’’ 

He sat down suddenly, the stiff little master 
of the house, in one of the great chairs that 
stood around the hall, and putting up his hand 
to his eyes, found to his own astonishment that 
his fingers were wet. 

“ Ma pauvre Diane ! ” he muttered. 

As usual, the one peaceful place was in the 
very heart and centre of the storm. The 
Abbess’s first action was to make her cousin 
drink a famous cordial made at Fontevrault, a 
bottle of which she had carried in the folds of 
her habit. Under its calming and reviving in- 
fluence and that of the tender strength which 
supported her, Madame de Montaigle seemed to 
return to life for a time. 

“ You remember, Gabrielle — you remember it 


DIANE 


6i 


all ? she whispered painfully, as she lay in her 
cousin’s arms, having enjoyed in silence, for a 
few moments, the luxury of being alone with her. 

“ I have forgotten nothing, dearest.” 

The thoughts of both had flown back to the 
old Paris convent, where they had spent their 
young days together — the old Abbaye-aux-Bois, 
with its high dark roofs and picturesque turrets 
and chimneys, then in the days of its glory. 
Among the girls of noble birth who were edu- 
cated there, and afterwards either made great 
matches or became religieuses of more or less 
distinction, the convent had never had a more 
brilliant pupil than Mademoiselle de Mortemart ; 
and her cousin. Mademoiselle de Grandseigne, 
her mother’s niece, was like her shadow. But 
she, shy and timid, had had her life arranged for 
her in a very different fashion from the high- 
spirited Gabrielle. 

And now, for a short time, the two cousins 
had forgotten all that lay between, even to the 
sad circumstances which had brought them to- 
gether once more, and Diane wasted, it might 
seem, the short time left to her, in recollections 
of the old life and the old companions. 

“Do you remember this — and that? What 
became of her ? Ah, how pretty she was — do 
you remember that I was jealous of her ? Yes, I 
was very jealous — but never of you, and you 
were so much more beautiful than any of them. 
Let me see your dear eyes again ! Do you 
know that paper you wrote has always been my 


62 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


greatest treasure — and then the time came for me 
to send it to you. I sent it without Monsieur 
de Montaigle’s knowledge — he would not have 
refused, I think ; but if your cousin Fran9oise de 
Saint-Gervais had known, it would never have 
reached you. And I could not die — and leave 
my little Ren4e — to her ! 

She said all this with long pauses and inter- 
vals. The Abbess, leaning over her, drew her 
into an even more tender embrace. 

Be perfectly at ease, my dear Diane. Ren6e 
is to be my child — you give her to me ? '' 

“ Yes, yes ; but you must arrange it with her 
father. Understand — I cannot endure that she 
should marry Jean de Vassy.’’ 

“ That lout who was standing behind the 
Comtesse ? I should think not ! 

‘‘ Ah, yes — that lout ! repeated Madame de 
Montaigle, with almost a laugh. ‘‘ You are not 
changed, my Gabrielle. But remember that he 
and his father, after my husband, are the heads 
of the family. And I know they have all made 
up their minds that this marriage must be. 
They will not let the estates, the fortune, pass 
out of the family. My husband too says it 
must be ; and just now, when you came, they 
were going to sign some sort of promise — the 
notary was ready. I knew it — and I said they 
must wait for Monsieur le Cure — and Agathe, 
my woman, watched there in the guardroom till 
you came. Even I, through the wind, heard 
your coach drive up, Gabrielle.” 


DIANE 


63 


‘‘Well, well, these good people must be dis- 
appointed,*’ the Abbess murmured thoughtfully. 
“ In any case, no promise must be made till the 
child is older. A great fortune is a great danger 
— and I suppose they have the new Versailles on 
their side, which makes it more difficult — still, I 
have my little influence. Who was the young 
gentleman that carried the child away ? Not a 
younger Saint-Gervais ? ** 

“Ah, no, little Nicolas — the little Chevalier 
d’Aumont. We have had him here since he 
was a child. M. de Montaigle is his guardian. 
His poor mother — you must remember that 
history.” 

“ Ah, I know. Then his parents are both 
dead, and he has two elder brothers, and no 
prospects of his own.** 

“ No, poor Nico ! My sons might have been 
like him — 01- — how often have I wished that Jean 
de Vassy was such another ! ** 

“ I understand.** 

“ But that is useless. I hope — ^Nico hopes — 
that his guardian or some of his own family will 
find energy enough to send in his proofs for 
Malta.** 

“Yes, that is the only thing to be done for him.” 

Then there was a long silence — so long, so 
deep, only broken by the wild howls of the wind, 
that Madame de Fontevrault thought her cousin 
had fainted, exhausted by the unusual effort and 
excitement of talking. But she saw that Diane*s 
eyes were open, as she lay breathing heavily 


64 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


and that there was even a smile as she looked 
into her face and softly kissed the damp brow. 

Presently she made her drink another dose of 
the soothing and strengthening cordial, and then 
Madame de Montaigle began to speak again of 
her little Renee and to ask for her. 

“She may come back now — now that you 
know all — and my poor little dwarf, my singing- 
bird, I must say a word to him. Where is 
Agathe r Dear, when you take Renee away, 
take Agathe too. And he, poor little fellow, 
would give his life for her, but I do not know if 
there is any place for him in a convent. He 
will miss me more than any of them. Some 
players left him outside the chateau gates when 
they went away. He was very little then, but 
people wanted to drive him off into the forest. 
But I took him up and carried him in, and 
Monsieur de Montaigle let him stay. It was a 
fancy of mine — you see, he has been good to 
me. And then, Gabrielle, there is my old 
Guillaume — and there are his sons — the most 
faithful — you know, the husband and children of 
old Babette who nursed me.*' 

“Ah, yes, dearest. It was one of the sons 
who brought your message, an immensely tall 
man." 

“ I know. That is another person who would 
give his life for my Ren6e. Remember." 

“ If it depends on me, Renee shall have her 
bodyguard — her giant and her dwarf! It is like 
a fairy tale." 


DIANE 65 

“You are good! I knew, if you were once 
here, I could die in peace/' 

Time was slipping away as the Abbess 
lingered, listening to her cousin's murmured 
words, watching every change in the shadowed 
face on the pillow. Her heart was stirred with 
deep pain at this hurried close of the love of a 
lifetime, — a real love, however interrupted, 
however subject to separation if not forgetful- 
ness. She was conscious that through these 
years of business and dignity at Fontevrault she 
might have thought oftener of her gentle cousin 
who led an even more truly cloistered life at 
Montaigle. She need not quite so easily have 
accepted Monsieur de Montaigle's prejudices as 
her rule of conduct. She had known that Diane, 
in health and strength at least, was never a 
person to take the first step. Well, regrets 
were of no use now I at least, when the 
summons came, she had done what she could ; 
and she promised herself to make ample amends 
in the future. Diane, dead, should guide and 
guard her child's life as she never could have 
done living. 

“ Foi de Mortemart I my poor Diane, I have 
fought your battles often enough in play. I will 
fight them in earnest now." 

But the end was drawing near; deathly 
weakness was stealing on, and there was much 
yet for the poor Marquise to go through — 
farewells, religious duties, and all the formalities 
without which a person of her distinction could 
E 


66 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


not leave this world with propriety. The Abbess 
knew all this, and yet she lingered, unwilling to 
acknowledge that her presence and her cordial 
could do no more than rouse the flame of life to 
one last flicker. She did not, however, deceive 
herself long, if at all really. Slowly she rose 
from her place beside the bed, wondering how 
she was to call any of the household. Between 
the great gusts of wind which howled in the 
windows and the chimney there was a silence so 
profound that the house might have been empty. 
The air in the room seemed thick; the lights 
smoked and burned dimly; the dying woman 
breathed with pain, and her sharp gasps fol- 
lowed the Abbess as she glided across the 
floor. 

She opened the nearest door, that of the ante- 
room through which the Marquis had brought 
her, and stepping through it, was conscious of a 
moment’s terror, which made her smile to her- 
self afterwards. The room was full of white 
light, in the broad stream of which she saw a 
group of people, quite still and silent. The fact 
was that since the Marquis passed through, the 
moon had risen above the opposite parapet, and 
now shone straight in at the high uncurtained 
window. 

For a moment the Abbess stood motionless ; 
and in her black veil and white habit, the 
moonlight making her unnaturally pale, she 
looked even more unearthly than the figures on 
whom she was gazing. 


DIANE 67 

“She is dead! Madame is dead 1 one of 
them sighed just above his breath. 

“Ah, mon Dieu! and without the sacra- 
ments I murmured another. 

Madame de Fontevrault became suddenly 
angry. 

“ What are you all doing here ? What is this 
masquerade ? she asked. “ Go, then — go and 
call Monsieur le Marquis and all the chateau, if 
you please, and my nuns to me. Madame de 
Montaigle is alive, good people, and is asking 
for her little daughter. Where is she ? 

“ I am here, madame.’' 

Renee, slender and small, sprang out from the 
circle that guarded her round and that followed 
her quickly and silently into the inner room, 
Madame de Fontevrault leading her by the 
hand. Agathe had flown, according to orders, 
to warn the Marquis and the nuns, but Nicolas 
d’Aumont followed his little friend, even on to 
the dais, and knelt down close to the bed where 
she had once more thrown herself. Two strange 
figures bent their knees in the shadow, a little 
farther off, — Grand-Gui the giant, and I’Oiselet 
the dwarf. This little fellow could not restrain 
his sobs, but all the rest were quiet. 

With one weak hand Madame de Montaigle 
tried to caress her child’s hair; the other she 
stretched tremblingly out on the counterpane, 
and Nicolas, understanding her, came closer and 
touched it with his lips ; then it rested for a few 
moments on his bent head. 


68 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ You will be a brave man — a brave soldier, 
Nico — but do not forget your little sister.” 

“Never, madame! ” 

The room was already filling with people, and 
one by one the old servants crept up to kiss 
their mistresses hand and say farewell. First of 
all came her foster-father, old Guillaume, with 
his three strong sons, and with them followed 
rOiselet. The Marquise gave her poor dwarf a 
smile, but only Grand-Gui had a word : “Faith- 
ful friend — you will guard Mademoiselle Renee 
with your life, if she needs it.” 

“ Madame knows that I will,” growled Grand- 
Gui, as he slipped back into the darkness. 

“Ch^re Diane, you know that your Ren6e 
will be surrounded with loving relations and 
friends,” said the clear voice of Madame de 
Saint-Gervais, who boldly advanced to embrace 
her cousin under the very shadow of the Abbess 
of Fontevrault keeping guard over her pillow. 
“And even if no formal promise has yet been 
made, it is understood on both sides — though 
even now it is not too late, if it would be more 
satisfactory — but at least you may be sure that I 
shall be a mother to the child.” 

She had hardly spoken when she started back 
in alarm, for instead of waiting to receive her 
offered kiss, Diane de Montaigle sat suddenly 
upright and waved her back with one hand, 
drawing the child’s head closer with the other. 
Life, bright and indignant, flashed up once again 
in the pathetic brown eyes, and the voice which 


DIANE 


69 


spoke was loud and clear, without any perceptible 
effort or pain. Monsieur de Montaigle held up 
his hand to warn the Cure and his assistants, 
who were just entering the large door of the 
room, followed by Mother de la Mothaye and the 
other nuns. All held their breath and listened 
to that voice which rang so strangely and 
piercingly. 

“No — I will not have it — no! I leave my 
child in the charge of my cousin the Abbess of 
Fontevrault. She will educate her — she will 
make a suitable marriage for her when the time 
comes. No, I will have no such promises. 
The happiness of my child shall not be sacrificed 
to these family arrangements. Ah, I have never 
had the courage to speak, but I will not die 
without making my wishes known. I implore 
my husband to carry them out. If I am dis- 
obeyed, my curse shall rest on this house and on 
the marriage they make in it. But it shall 
never be ! I myself, with God's permission, will 
return to earth to prevent it." 

Her words ended in a shrill cry, and she fell 
back insensible on her pillows. A sort of thrill, 
for a moment, kept every one motionless, then 
doctor and waiting-women rushed forward. 
Madame de Saint-Gervais stood her ground, 
flushing scarlet and saying aloud, “This is 
delirium. The poor thing is not herself. Come, 
my little Renee, this is not the place for you. 
Come away with me, child — little demon ! " 

The last words were muttered between her 


70 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


teeth, for Ren6e clung to her fainting mother, 
and Madame de Fontevrault was saying with 
stern politeness, ‘‘ Have the goodness, madame, 
to stand aside, that the doctor may pass/’ 

The Comte de Saint-Gervais put up a hand- 
kerchief to his face, and laughed behind it ; his 
son glared furiously, first at the dying Marquise, 
then at every one in the room by turns : he was 
quite aware that his friends there were few. The 
Marquis de Montaigle stood like a statue at the 
foot of the bed, and no one could tell what effect 
his wife’s last words had had on him. 

For they were her last words ; though it was 
not till long after midnight, after hours through 
which the voice of religion alone was heard, that 
the great bell clanged out from the chateau, and 
the solemn chiming of the church bells answered 
it. Then the villagers woke up and crossed them- 
selves, and knew that the gentle soul of their lady 
had gone out alone into the stormy weather. 


CHAPTER V 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 

During the few clays before Madame de 
Montaigle was buried there was a kind of armed 
truce between the opposing forces at the chateau. 
Diane was at rest : she lay in the state-room 
where she had died : her cousin Gabrielle had 
herself placed the crucifix at her head, and 
lighted the tall wax candles that stood all round. 
She and her nuns kept watch by turns in the 
room, night and day, and the other people in 
the house stole in sometimes to say a short 
prayer. Agathe led her little lady by the hand, 
and the child, strangely quieted, knelt and gazed 
with large bewildered eyes at her mother lying 
there so still, so awful in her white calmness, 
long dark lashes resting on a cheek painfully 
pale and hollow now that the fever flush had left 
it for ever. Even Madame de Saint-Gervais 
came and knelt like the rest, her lips moving. 
She had the character at Versailles of being a 
pious person, and was much in sympathy with 
Madame de Maintenon on the subject of family 
life and the education of the young. It seemed 
therefore all the more painful and surprising that 


72 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


there should be any doubt about confiding little 
Renee to her care. However, she had every 
hope that poor Diane’s delirious expressions 
would be forgotten. Her cousin Montaigle 
could hardly let them influence him so far as 
to break up an excellent family arrangement. 

As to him, he wandered about through those 
days like a man in a dream. He left all the 
arrangements to his steward and the Cure of the 
village, a good old man, who had long acted as 
his chaplain, now assisted by the Abbess’s own 
chaplain, who was summoned in haste from 
Fontevrault. He went into the room where his 
wife lay, and as he hardly spoke, no one could 
tell what thoughts about the future lay beneath 
his worn clothes and frowning brow. One day 
Monsieur de Saint-Gervais, urged on by his 
wife’s anxiety, made an attempt to find out 
something. Looking from their windows, which 
were to the east of the chateau, they saw the 
little Marquis pacing up and down beside the 
deep dry moat, over which an old drawbridge, 
now permanently let down, led straight into the 
wild, untrimmed, forest-like depths of the park. 
There had once been a stately avenue on this 
side, but it was long unused, and overgrown 
with grass. It ended on one of the great high- 
roads of the country, several miles away. The 
unsociable soul of the present owner preferred 
that his house should be approached on one side 
only, and that the least convenient. In making 
his road through the forest he had known very 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 


73 


well that it would still be a barrier to the more 
timid travellers. 

The dark figure of the Marquis looked very 
small and lonely, walking as he was in the wide 
shadow cast eastward by towers and roofs. 
Beyond, the country shone in October sunlight 
which gilded the already yellow lines of trees, 
and made two large fishponds in the park sparkle 
and glitter. 

“ Poor man ! he is certainly very solitary,' ' 
said Monsieur de Saint-Gervais. I should not 
have expected him to feel her death acutely, for 
he troubled himself little enough about her in 
her lifetime. Plowever, there may be some 
superstition under that leathern exterior. I 
should not have thought it, and I have known 
the worthy Mathieu longer than most people. 
But that threat of a curse and so forth — one 
never knows the limit of human weakness. 
Every one in the room, too, heard the words.'’ 

“ Mere delirium," said Madame de Saint- 
Gervais impatiently. 

‘‘ Pardon, madame, not altogether. Our poor 
cousin had taken a dislike to Jean, and I am not 
sure that I think it unreasonable. Jean is not a 
courtier. Physically he is admirable. He will live 
for centuries, and carry on the line of Montaigle 
successfully. But even his mother's partiality 
cannot call him amiable or agreeable. I do not 
think he is popular with anybody. He beats 
the servants and the dogs " 

‘‘ What is the use of finding fault with your 


74 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


own son ? You agree, then, with Diane ? In that 
case we had better give up the marriage, let 
the child be carried off by the nuns, and make 
a present of Montaigle and all its belongings to 
the Abbey of Fontevrault — or to some protege of 
the Mortemart family. Madame de Montespan 
loves match-making. She will be enchanted."* 

Monsieur de Saint-Gervais smiled his brilliant 
cold smile — he was proud of his teeth — and 
made his wife a low bow. 

‘‘ You are always right, madame,"’ he said. “ I 
do not myself feel inclined to throw up the game 
so easily, but yet "" 

“Then do something! If we stir neither 
hand nor foot in the matter, I assure you that 
the Abbess will carry off the child."" 

“ Patience I If the worst comes to the worst, 
you can carry her off yourself. Monsieur Jean 
can run away with his future wife — pity she is 
not a few years older I What is her age, by- 
the-by ? "" 

“Nine — ten — how should I know? In mind 
she is a perfect baby, and her poor mother, be- 
sides indulging every fancy she had, and bringing 
her up in the most impossible fashion, taught her 
all her own prejudices. Carry her off, indeed ! 
She would scratch our eyes out by the way."" 

“ Oh, as to that, one can always try a little 
discipline,’" said the Count, yawning slightly. 
“After all, a child is a child. Once in our 
hands, we should be masters of the situation."" 

Madame de Saint-Gervais did not reply at 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 


75 


once. She stood by the window looking into 
quiet depths of evening shadow, her eyes follow- 
ing the small stooping figure of the head of the 
house as he marched up and down, his hands 
behind his back. She was not entirely thinking 
of him, however. Presently she turned her 
head towards her husband, and said in a low, 
even voice, her eyes glittering eagerly — *‘You 
do not mean what you say, Alexandre ? You 
do not really suggest that we should — that Jean 
should — it would be robbery, would it not — 
lawlessness, crime 

“Fifty years ago there would have been 
nothing very strange in it,” said the Count, with 
an indifferent air. “ Now, I agree with you, it 
might be rather out of date, especially as the 
child’s father is alive and in his senses. But I 
believe you would do anything rather than have 
our plan spoilt.” 

“Anything that was not absolutely illegal 
— and impious. That is, if I could be quite sure 
it was wise.” 

“ Ah, prudence ! Yes, there are times, are 
there not ? when one has to place that virtue a 
little above piety. All the better when they go 
together.” 

“ In this case I believe they do,” said Madame 
de Saint-Gervais thoughtfully, while her husband 
watched her with his bitter smile. “No — I 
agree with you, it is tempting ; but at present, 
since the child’s father is alive, as you say, there 
is only one thing we can do safely, and that is, 


76 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


to drag the formal promise from him as soon as 
possible. Then, I think, he cannot refuse to 
give us charge of the child — or if he chooses to 
keep her here, I can easily find a lady to live 
here and manage her. In any case the Abbess 
will have no right to interfere.” 

“ Will her Saintliness take the trouble to in- 
quire into that matter of right, do you think ? ” 

‘‘ Probably not ; she is unprincipled to the 
last degree. But if we have Mathieu on our 
side, she cannot do much, after all. And do 
you see, if he plays us false now, he goes 
against all his traditions, pulls down his house 
with his own hands, besides submitting to the 
Mortemart influence, which ^all his life he has 
opposed. Why, he could not hear the name of 
his wife’s relations with patience ! And is this 
wonderful change to be wrought by the Abbess’s 
beaux yeux and his poor wife’s last delirious 
words ? It is ridiculous. Oh, heavens ! it drives 
me mad to think of it ! ” 

‘‘Leave madness to Mathieu, I beg. Literally, 
such a volte-face might almost prove him mad, 
and then, I suppose, the little heiress would 
become a ward of his Majesty.” 

“ Ah, ah ! then we should see what friendship 
was worth. But what an imagination you 
have ! ” said Madame de Saint-Gervais, laugh- 
ing in spite of herself. “Yes,” she added in a 
lower tone, looking again out of the window, 
“ it is just in that way, is it not, that madmen 
tramp up and down their dens ? ” 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 


77 


“ Possibly ! but I think they are more gene- 
rally chained in a corner. Well, I shall take the 
liberty of joining my dear cousin in his walk. 
He must need my sympathy, though he does 
not ask for it.” 

‘‘ That is a good idea : you will bring him to 
reason.” 

“ I hope so.” 

With another polite bow the Count left the 
room, called for his hat and cane, and proceeded 
gracefully downstairs. His wife watched till he 
appeared below, and saw with satisfaction that 
his cousin, when he approached him with an air 
of kindly condolence, received him civilly. 

The two men were soon deep in talk as they 
paced the terrace. It was already no small 
success, in Madame de Saint-Gervais’ eyes, 
that her husband should be able to draw the 
Marquis into a serious conversation. 

“Really,” she said to herself, “Alexandre is 
a clever man. I am too impatient, as he often 
tells me. Truly I believe if this matter is left 
to him, his diplomacy will carry it through. He 
has indeed a marvellous power of persuading 
people, of changing their minds, making them 
take his own view, in short. He is so reason- 
able, a person of such distinguished good sense. 
And it would be really too foolish to lose these 
splendid prospects for want of a little trouble 
and pains. Besides, so much better for the 
child herself, whatever her poor mother may 
have thought.— Great heavens, what is it ! ” 


78 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


She started violently, turning red and pale, 
as something touched her shoulder. For the 
moment she hardly dared look round. The 
room, with its narrow windows, was already in 
twilight behind her ; she had not heard the door 
open, or any step on the floor. In an instant, 
however, the mysterious silence was broken by 
a loud laugh, and her son, stepping from behind 
her chair, bent and kissed her hand. 

“ You took me for a ghost, madame ? ” he said. 
‘‘For the ghost of ” 

“ Silence ! cried his mother indignantly. “ I 
forbid you to speak of it. And how often am I 
to tell you, Jean, that I cannot endure these 
mountebank tricks ? It astonishes me that I 
should have a son so utterly unconscious of 
what becomes a gentleman.” 

“ I should have thought it was worse to make 
a noise than to walk quietly,” said Jean, still 
grinning broadly. “ Ah, voyons ! there is mon- 
sieur my father walking with the old cousin 
Montaigle. What are they talking about ? My 
marriage, perhaps ! You will carry little Renee 
off with you, madame, will you not ? It will be 
better, I assure you, for if you leave her here 
they will marry her to that boy D’Aumont.” 

“No, my poor Jean, that they will never do,” 
said Madame de Saint-Gervais with a scornful 
smile. 

Her sudden anger had ebbed away as she 
leaned back in her chair, the moment's fright 
and disturbance over, and contemplated the tall 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 


79 


young fellow who stood rather awkwardly before 
her. Women of her sort, small, delicate, sharp 
of wits, find great satisfaction in the sight of 
strength which, though not their own, is com- 
pletely under their dominion, and till now Ma- 
dame de Saint-Gervais’ will had been the main- 
spring which moved her young Samson's muscles. 

“ No ! there is no danger of thaty' she said. 

“Madame, I tell you, it is what the servants 
say. They say that the Marquise told Nicolas 
d’Aumont that she wished he was in my place." 

“ Possibly, but he is not in your place. He is 
a penniless younger son, with nothing but his 
commission, and no prospect but the Order of 
Malta— if indeed he ever gets that. There is no 
chance of his standing in your way." 

“ If I thought there was, I would kill him." 

“The real danger is Fontevrault," Madame 
de Saint-Gervais went on. Her eyes had 
wandered again to the terrace, where the two 
cousins were still talking earnestly : the Count, 
at least, was talking, while Monsieur de Mon- 
taigle listened, nodding his head now and then. 
“ If the Abbess is once allowed to carry that 
child to Fontevrault, we are ruined. Either she 
will make her a religious, or she will marry her 
in time to some fortune-hunter chosen by herself. 
But your father will convince his cousin that 
this must not be. He is doing so now. You 
are right, Jean : it is your future that they are 
discussing, my son, and the future of the house 
of Montaigle, which depends on this alliance." 


8o THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Shall I be Marquis de Montaigle, then ? ” 

‘‘After our cousin’s death, you mean? It is 
possible. Yes, I think it would probably be 
arranged. At present you must be patient, for 
you will have long to wait. Renee has to be 
educated, for instance.” 

“ In the meanwhile, I will teach some people 
to mind their own affairs, and not to injure me,” 
growled Monsieur Jean. 

“ Do you mean the little D’Aumont ? Let him 
alone : he is going to his regiment, and will not 
hurt you.” 

“ I mean the rascally spies who took the Mar- 
quise’s message to Fontevrault. Madame, if it 
had not been for them, all would have gone well.” 

“ What do you mean ? Did the Marquise send 
a message to Fontevrault ? I understood that 
the Abbess heard of her illness by chance. 
What treason ! Tell me at once all you know.” 

Jean smiled triumphantly. It was something 
to make his impatient little mother flash round 
from the window and its interesting prospect to 
hear what he had to say. He was in no hurry, 
however, for he liked to tease people and keep 
them waiting, though this amusement was less 
satisfactory with his mother, and impossible with 
his father, the one being on earth that he really 
respected. 

He lounged across the room to fetch a cushion, 
which he placed at his mother’s feet, and sat 
down there. Then by rather slow degrees he 
told her a long story of how he had been talking 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 


8 


at the stables with the grooms from Fontevrault, 
and how one of them had told him that a tall 
forester from Montaigle had brought the Abbess 
a letter, on receiving which she had at once 
ordered her coach and outriders. Then further 
the man had told him how this forester had ill- 
treated the porter, who was his brother-in- law, 
and that one of these days he would have to pay 
the reckoning for that. Then the story was 
continued up to the stopping of the coach in the 
forest by old Guillaume and his other sons, and 
the Abbess’s interview with the dwarf from the 
castle, who rode on her coach-step up to the 
very gates themselves. 

“ After that you will not say that the Abbess 
came by chance, madame ? 

“ What a set of traitors ! '' murmured Madame 
de Saint-Gervais. “ Could any one have believed 
it ? And that false woman ! She had planned, 
then, to cheat us like this. But why should the 
servants have done what they must have known 
would be against their master’s wish r He, who 
always hated the whole race of Mortemart. At 
any rate Baudouin had nothing to do with it ! ” 

“ No, he is not so stupid. But he cannot 
manage those foresters, and they are the 
Marquise’s foster-brothers, remember, madame. 
And they would do anything to injure me. It 
is they who would be glad if Nicolas d’Aumont 
was in my place. Remember that I tell you so. 
That Grand -Gui, as they call him, has always 
been my enemy. Once, a long time ago, I was 
F 


82 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


punishing a cur that tried to bite me. That 
Grand-Gui came by and took it away. He was 
insolent, but I was too young then to punish 
him, and I knew it was no use to complain to the 
Marquis. Even now he is too big, and there are 
too many of them, but one of these days I shall 
have my turn.'* 

Yes. Do not concern yourself with a 
miserable peasant. He shall be punished, never 
fear,'* said the Comtesse, thoughtfully. 

‘‘ But I shall make somebody else pay for it," 
muttered Jean. ‘‘That little rascal dwarf has 
always hated and mocked me. I have seen and 
heard him. Now I have a good reason for 
thrashing him, and his crooked carcase shall 
not forget me in a hurry, I promise you." 

“ Never mind the wretched little frog. Your 
aunt De Montaigle picked him out of the ditch 
to amuse herself — one of these days he shall go 
back there. Little liar and go-between ! Ah ! 
I suspect that Agathe had her full share in this 
business." 

“ One cannot so well beat a woman." 

“ Of course not. Patience — patience — that is 
what your father says to me. Soon all will be in 
our hands. See, he is coming back." 

The gentlemen on the terrace had parted, and 
in a few minutes Monsieur de Saint-Gervais 
entered the room, a servant carrying lights be- 
fore him. Jean de Vassy rose from his cushion 
and retreated into a corner, still smiling, but 
watching his father somewhat anxiously. 


FORTUNE-HUNTERS 




‘‘ Well, what does Mathieu say ? ’’ asked 
Madame de Saint-Gervais, as soon as the three 
were along together. 

There was a slight flush on the Count’s hand- 
some face, but he had an air of satisfaction. He 
sat down, glanced at his own elegant figure, and 
then deliberately surveyed his son’s solid pro- 
portions, with one of those long critical stares 
which Jean hated. 

“That young gentleman ought to be large 
enough to manage his own affairs,” he said. 
“ Well, madame, the cousin was more reasonable 
than I expected. He is not afraid of his wife’s 
ghost, I fancy, though I did not precisely ask 
him that question. He has no wish that his 
child should become a religious or a Mortemart. 
He will finally decide nothing till after the 
funeral. When Madame la Marquise is safely 
underground, I think all his courage will return 
to him, and we shall have our written promise 
after all. So patience, [madame — patience. 
Monsieur le Vicomte.” 

“ You should not speak like that of the poor 
dead ! ” murmured Madame de Saint-Gervais, as 
she clasped her hands and looked upward in 
thankfulness. 

Her husband laughed. 

“ And in the meanwhile ” growled Jean, 

but nobody noticed him. 

He had his turn again later, when his mother 
ordered him to tell his father the history of the 
Abbess’s coming to Montaigle. The Count, 


84 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


however, took this very lightly. He was not at 
all impressed with the importance of Jean's 
discoveries, or with his cleverness in making 
them. He coolly observed that the study of the 
past was both easy and unprofitable, and that 
the future alone was worth pains and attention 
from an intelligent mind. 

“ Which yours is not," he said, with a courteous 
bow to his son. “ Therefore, monsieur, go back 
to your favourite associates, who can at least 
teach you to ride. Leave your affairs in our 
hands, and amuse yourself, if possible, without 
adding to your unpopularity here." 

If I am a fool, I can use a sword," muttered 
Jean, red with anger. 

‘‘ Take my advice, and do nothing of the kind," 
said his father. 

‘‘ Then I can use a stick ! " 

“ On dogs and horses, as much as you please, 
but not on men, who may bear you malice. 
Enough, sir : you may go." 

And the hope of the Montaigles, swearing 
between his teeth, blundered out of the room. 

‘‘ You are too severe with that poor boy," said 
Madame de Saint-Gervais. 

“ I detest fools, especially when they brag of 
having done something clever," answered her 
husband. “ That youth is to me a daily sorrow 
and misfortune. However, let us forget his 
lumbering presence for ten minutes, while I tell 
you more of the humours of poor old Mathieu." 


CHAPTER VI 


SACRILEGE 

The ceremony was over. It had been attended 
by a good many of Monsieur de Montaigle’s 
country neighbours, both near and distant, and 
they had been edified by the sight of his mourn- 
ing relations with their distinguished air, and 
deeply impressed by the presence of the Abbess 
of Fontevrault with her train of nuns. After- 
wards they had dined at the chateau, but even 
the most sociable and self-satisfied among them 
had found little comfort in this meal, presided 
over by the silent gloom of the Marquis and the 
cold and haughty airs of his cousin Saint-Gervais, 
who took little pains to hide his contempt for the 
rustic looks and ways of these country gentle- 
men. As evening drew on the guests ordered 
their horses with one accord, and clattered down 
the slopes and through the village street, where 
staring groups of peasants cheered their droop- 
ing spirits a little. 

The “haute et puissante Dame Diane de 
Grandseigne, Spouse du haut et puissant Seig- 
neur Messire Mathieu de Montaigle, Marquis de 
Montaigle,*' was laid, like all her husband's 


86 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


family, in the vault under the chapel of the 
chateau. The chapel was not a cheerful resting- 
place. It was a low and very ancient building, 
much out of repair. Green moss grew on the 
rugged walls and on the uneven stones of the 
floor. The light stole faintly in through loop- 
hole windows of old painted glass ; the arches 
of the doors were so low that a tall man had to 
stoop in entering. One of the doors, the only 
outside entrance, opened on the steep paved 
yard between the first and second gates of the 
chateau opposite the stables, and just above the 
walled garden. Here a great chestnut tree, 
overhanging the wall, almost hid the low chapel 
archway with its cross, and the wooden pent- 
house, decayed by time and damp, that sheltered 
the chapel bell. It was through this archway 
that old Guillaume and his three sons, their 
hearts heavier than those of the mourners who 
followed, had carried on bent shoulders their 
mistress, their foster-child and sister, in the 
early hours of that sad morning. 

The other door of the chapel connected it with 
the chateau itself, and opened half-way up the 
wall from a low tribune or small gallery opposite 
the altar, from which there was a descent by a 
spiral staircase in the thickness of the wall. 
This tribune, in times of service, was the place 
of the masters of the house, and was fenced in 
front by rails and a slight iron grating. Here 
Diane, bereaved of her sons, a sorrowful woman 
with a half-starved nature in all her youth and 


Sx^CRILEGE 


87 


beauty, had spent many long hours praying. 
She had done all she could for the little 
sanctuary ; the rich hangings which surrounded 
the altar were the work of her fingers, the 
jewelled vessels were her gift. Often her slender 
figure might have been seen, with little Renee, 
the only child she had left, running by her side, 
carrying flowers from the garden to make a 
sweet freshness in the gloomy chapel, where the 
lamp ever burning showed the one home that 
her lonely spirit knew. 

The Marquis de Montaigle was neither irre- 
ligious nor unkind ; his wife’s devotion was 
never interfered with by him, and he and his 
servants attended Mass regularly. The old 
Curd’s opinion of his eccentric patron was better 
than that of the rest of the world, but even he 
did not venture to ask Monsieur le Marquis to 
spend money on re-paving the chapel floor. 

Quiet had descended on the chateau that 
evening, the funeral guests being gone. Mon- 
sieur and Madame de Saint-Gervais, having re- 
tired to their own rooms, were rejoicing in an 
excellent piece of news they had heard — that the 
Abbess of Fontevrault had ordered her coach for 
an early hour the next morning. Their hearts 
would not have been quite so light had they 
known that the Abbess had sent to ask for a 
private interview with the Marquis de Montaigle, 
and that at this very time he was receiving her 
in the library. Still, if all had gone smoothly at 
Montaigle that evening, their confidence in the 


88 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


future might have suffered no disturbance. But 
the cleverest people often forget to allow for the 
unexpected. 

Another departure had been fixed for the next 
day. The Chevalier d' Aumont was to ride off to 
join his regiment, quartered at Angers. He 
was to start before dawn, so as to present him- 
self to his commanding officer in good time that 
day. To Nicolas, though a spirited boy and a 
soldier at heart, and in spite of months of long- 
ing for the end of his sufficiently strict training 
at Montaigle, this parting was worse than any 
schoolboy’s first going to school. He had loved 
the gentle woman who had treated him as kindly 
as she dared — for Monsieur de Montaigle allowed 
his young page few indulgences. He had fol- 
lowed his guardian at the funeral with a white 
face and a choking pain in his throat. He had 
often heard Jean de Vassy boasting coarsely 
among the servants of what he would do when 
he was master of Montaigle ; and Nicolas was 
old enough to find it a very terrible thought that 
this thick-skinned braggart might one day be 
master of his dear little playfellow too. 

Neither Jean nor his parents would have quite 
cared to see Nico and Renee clinging together 
in one arm-chair, through those evening hours 
after the funeral, crying sometimes together, 
then comforting each other, the dark and fair 
curls mingled as the boy pressed his cheek 
against the little head that nestled on his 
shoulder. 


SACRILEGE 


89 


‘‘ Don’t cry, don’t cry, Nico ! ” whispered the 
child. “ Mamma said I was to go with my aunt 
De Rochechouart — you heard her say it. And I 
shall love her, won’t you ? she is so beautiful 
and so kind. And Agathe says that Angers is 
not a long way from the Abbey where she lives 
— you must come and see me, darling ” 

“ Ah, mon Dieu ! if all that happens, so much 
the better 1 ” sighed the boy. “ If only Mon- 
sieur your father will let you go with Madame 
TAbbesse ; yes, then indeed — yet I don’t 
know ” 

He stopped and sighed. Young as he was, he 
could quite understand the gulf that would widen 
every year between himself and Renee. 

Agathe, who had been watching for some time 
from the high window towards the village, now 
slipped quietly out of the room. As she went 
she looked back at them. 

‘‘They are safe together, our little lovers,” 
she said to herself. “ What a pity Monsieur 
Nico is not somebody else ! But even if some- 
body else was out of the world, I suppose it 
would make things no better.” 

In all Montaigle the Marquise Diane left no 
heart more lonely, more uncomforted, than that 
of her poor dwarf, her singing-bird, I’Oiselet. 
A little of a poet and a musician too, the boy 
with his loving heart had a mind above his sta- 
tion, The Marquise had spoilt him, people 
said ; he was constantly lying at her feet while 
she worked at her embroidery frame, sometimes 


90 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


buried in some book of old romance, sometimes 
talking on subjects he knew nothing about. At 
other times he was singing to the guitar, either 
quaint little songs of his own making, or scraps 
that he had picked up of the fashionable music 
of the day. Or he was mending Mademoiselle 
Renee’s few toys, or inventing games for her, or 
telling her stories ; he had been her playfellow 
from her birth in a much more domestic fashion 
than Nico d’Aumont, who was more sternly 
brought up as page to the Marquis. But 
I’Oiselet, delicate, sensitive, and emotional, feel- 
ing his physical inferiority more keenly than 
any one but the Marquise knew, was by no 
means effeminate. He loved to escape some- 
times into the forest, and his apparent fear of 
its terrors was merely play. At heart he was as 
brave as any forester or huntsman of them all ; 
and no one knew this better than his most loyal 
friends and fellow-servants, old Guillaume and 
his sons. 

In these sad days I’Oiselet was heartbroken. 
Nobody seemed to want him, for Agathe now 
devoted herself entirely to her little mistress, 
besides which Monsieur Nico, with no lessons 
and no outdoor exercises, was able to spend 
more time than usual with Renee ; and she 
made no secret of preferring him to any other 
companion, even the most obediently devoted. 
The dwarf was her slave, with wonderful arts 
of amusing, but the tall Nico was her true 
knight. 


SACRILEGE 


91 


So rOiselet stole away alone. While the 
Marquise lay in state, his pathetic form and 
face were often seen by the nuns, passing in and 
out, half hidden in a corner of the great dim 
room. More than once the kind-hearted Abbess 
would have spoken to him, but he slipped out of 
her way. He did not know that his dying 
mistress had commended him to her care ; and 
he, with the rest of the household, dared hardly 
hope that she would be able to carry off 
Mademoiselle Ren4e in spite of the Saint- 
Gervais. More eyes than those of Madame la 
Comtesse had watched the long conference 
between the two cousins on the terrace, and the 
servants had drawn their own conclusions. 
Their master was a hard man ; he had never 
taken much trouble to please his wife in her 
lifetime ; why, then, should he begin now ? As 
to her last words, the Comte de Saint-Gervais 
had been seen to laugh at them : might not the 
Marquis de Montaigle do the same in his heart ? 
He had often been heard to scoff at peasant 
superstitions, and once, when there was a ghost 
in the churchyard, he had openly suggested that 
it was a trick to frighten the villagers, and had 
said to the Cur4, ‘‘ My good friend, you do not 
expect me to‘believe that one of your parishioners 
has returned from the other world on purpose to 
plague his neighbours r 

But the servants and the peasants all believed 
that the Marquise would keep her word, and a 
good many of them declared, as soon as the 


92 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


funeral was over, that no power would make 
them venture into the chapel except in broad 
daylight. Even if the dear lady had her will, 
and the Saint-Gervais scheme was defeated, 
they thought that anxiety for her little daughter 
would not let her rest in her grave. 

In the dusk of that evening, however, one 
lonely little figure crept limping down under the 
shadowy walls, and let itself in at the low chapel 
doorway. Inside, it was nearly dark — only a 
glimmer of daylight shone in at the narrow 
windows, darkened as they were by the trees of 
the garden ; black and silver hangings added to 
the gloom, but the lamp before the altar shone 
with its own soft veiled light straight down on 
the long slab of white stone, deeply cut with the 
Montaigle coat of arms, which had been raised 
and let down again that day. 

L'Oiselet knelt for a few minutes at the foot 
of the stone in front of the altar, then he lay 
down on the ground and pressed his cheek to 
the cold stone, and the grief with which his 
heart was swelled and aching had its sway ; he 
lay there sobbing, and the stone was wet with 
his tears. L’Oiselet had no fear of his mistress, 
living or dead. She would always be the same 
to him : a saint on earth or a saint in Paradise. 
It was better to be here, near what was left of 
her, than anywhere else in the cold empty 
chdteau. The boy cried his heart out, and then 
lay still, face downwards, on the stone that 
covered her. The clock high up in the tower 


SACRILEGE 


93 


struck more than once while he lay there, and 
the distant chime of the church clock answered 
it; daylight died away from the windows, and 
the lamp shone alone, its calm radiance falling 
on his tumbled yellow curls and the short black 
cloak that hid his crooked figure. 

Poor rOiselet ! He found that it was good to 
be there. In the chapel his desolate little soul 
was not alone, and when the first violence of 
his grief had passed away, there stole over him 
a feeling of strange incredible peace and security, 
a feeling of being sheltered under an angel’s 
wing, “ safe under his feathers.’’ He had never 
known such peace through his light-hearted, 
romantic life, not even in the moments when his 
lady’s hand rested on his hair and she smiled 
her pleasure at some new sparkle of poetic fancy. 
This was like a blessed dream. L’Oiselet lay 
very still that he might not wake from it. The 
sad past, the doubtful future, all was forgotten 
in the mysterious repose of the present. 

But it did not last long. L’Oiselet had fallen 
asleep in Paradise only to wake in hell — so 
indeed he thought in his first bewildered horror. 
The chapel door groaned on its hinges while it 
was pushed slowly open, then with two strides 
across the floor a man with a heavy stick in 
his hand stood over the crippled lad as he 
lay. 

L’Oiselet started, lifting his head, but the face 
that bent above him was in shadow. He only 
heard quick breathing for an instant, as if of 


94 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


some fierce animal ; then he was seized by the 
collar, dragged to his knees, and beaten with 
cruel barbarous blows that made his poor little 
body a mass of bruises from head to feet. At 
the first moment I’Oiselet cried out, then he bit 
his lips and struggled silently ; but struggling 
was of no use whatever under the strong hand 
that held him down. 

For a moment the crashing blows ceased, and 
a voice hissed in his ear, “ Do you know why 
you are beaten, miserable little worm ? To 
teach you not to carry secret messages.” Then 
the stick descended again with force enough 
to break the boy’s bones, and the thought 
“ Monsieur Jean ” seemed to flash like fire 
across his brain. After that he knew no more, 
for he fainted from the awful pain. 

For a minute or two the cruel beating went 
on, though the victim lay like dead beneath the 
blows, till it occurred to Jean de Vassy’s half- 
brutal mind that after all he had better not kill 
the boy. He only meant to punish him well 
and frighten him effectually. He had hardly 
cried at all, and now he had ceased to struggle. 
He could not be dead ; it must be pretence ; and 
he kicked him in the side to rouse him. 

Get up, you fool,” he growled, and don’t 
lie there like a dead pig. Get up, or I’ll begin 
again.” 

Where now was the sheltering angef s wing ? 
The sacred lamp shone on as calmly as before, 
but it seemed indeed as if in losing his mistress 


SACRILEGE 


95 


the poor dwarf had lost his only friend in this 
world or any other. 

Then as Jean de Vassy hesitated a moment, 
looking down on the helpless heap at his feet, 
his stick half lifted for another rain of blows, a 
voice that seemed to come from the roof, clear 
yet trembling, cried out suddenly : 

“ Who is this wicked man who commits 
violence in the house of God ? 

At first the young man was afraid to move : 
he stood like a statue over his victim, breathless 
with terror. Then, lifting his head and staring 
wildly round, he saw in the tribune of the chapel 
a tall figure, shadowy and pale in the darkness, 
and waiting to see and hear no more, he dropped 
his stick and rushed headlong towards the door- 
way. As he plunged out into the dim courtyard, 
somebody else, much taller and of still more 
solid proportions, stepped forward from the 
shelter of the trees, and tripped him up by the 
simple expedient of stretching a long leg in his 
way. Jean tumbled so violently on his face that 
he was stunned for a few minutes, and lay like 
a log where he fell. A woman's voice, half 
frightened, half triumphant, broke out of the 
deep shade of the chestnut into which Jean's 
interceptor had hastily stepped back on seeing 
him fall. 

Mon Dieu ! Joli-gars, what have you done ? 
It is Monsieur le Vicomte. You surely have 
not killed him ? " 

“ I am afraid not, ma'mselle. Only spoilt his 


96 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


pretty face. I know what it is, for Ga’cogne 
once threw me down with the same trick on 
these stones, and I thought my nose was 
broken. Then you would never have looked at 
me. One kiss, ma'mselle, for tripping up 
Monsieur Jean ! 

“ Go away, impertinent. Let us go into the 
chapel, for there certainly was a very strange 
noise, and I should like to see if that gentleman 
has done any mischief.'* 

“ Into the chapel ! At this hour ! Oh no, 
ma'mselle ! " exclaimed Joli-gars, hastily cross- 
ing himself. 

“ You are afraid ? Of what, pray ? ’* said 
Agathe scornfully ; and pushing her admirer 
to one side, she walked towards the door, not 
without a nervous glance at the figure stretched 
on the stones. “Let us hope none of their 
people will come by," she murmured. “ If he 
does not get up and run away, you had better 
disappear as quickly as possible, my friend." 

“ I will keep an eye on him," Joli-gars 
answered. “ But, ma'mselle, ma'mselle, why 
do you want to go into the chapel? Shall I 
fetch a light at least ? I am afraid of nothing 
earthly, as you well know — but they say — well, 
she is gone, so I must follow her." 

Once inside the chapel door, Agathe stretched 
her hand to the holy water and crossed herself 
devoutly, while she gazed in horror, at first quite 
uncomprehending, at the strange silent group 
above the very place where her mistress had 


SACRILEGE 


97 


been laid that morning. Two nuns were kneel- 
ing, one on each side of the prostrate, helpless 
rOiselet, who was beginning to groan faintly as 
they tried to lift him. One of them — it was 
the M^re de la Mothaye — looked round with 
something like a start of terror when Agathe 
came in. 

“ I hope this is a good Christian,'' she said, 
her voice trembling, ‘‘ and no friend of the 
heathen savage who — ah, surely it is Madame 
de Montaigle's waiting-woman ? 

“Yes, surely, madame, it is Agathe. But 
what has happened, in heaven’s name ! Why, it 
is rOiselet — poor little fellow " 

“He has been most cruelly ill-treated," said 
the M^re de la Mothaye, and tears of pity ran 
down her face. “I only wish the reverend 
Mother and I had been here sooner. We came 
to pray by the dear Marquise's grave — God rest 
her soul ! but if she is still anywhere near earth, 
she is not happy at this moment, for I believe 
this poor boy was one oi her most faithful ser- 
vants. No sooner had we opened the door into 
the gallery than we heard the savage sound of 
blows, and by the light of the lamp we could 
see that a man was striking what looked like a 
helpless child at his feet. We were terribly 
shocked, and at the first moment I thought of 
going back into the chateau and giving the 
alarm, for I feared that the monster might turn 
his violence upon us. However, I saw immedi- 
ately that there was no time to be lost if we 
G 


98 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


were to save the child’s life. So I spoke, and 
the villain instantly fled. Then we descended 
into the chapel, and saw at once that it was the 
poor dwarf — with broken bones, I fear. Who 
can have been brutal enough to misuse him so 
cruelly?” 

There is only one person, madame,” an- 
swered Agathe, looking up into the good nun’s 
face, as .she too knelt beside the boy. “ Every- 
one in the chateau and in all the country round 
loves rOiselet, and it is only a stranger who 
would hurt him. It was Monsieur le Vicomte, 
madame — they tell us he is to marry Made- 
moiselle Renee. Madame la Marquise knew 
his character, and therefore she said ” 

“ Oh, my good girl, impossible,” cried Mother 
de la Mothaye, with some stateliness. “ No 
gentleman would be found belabouring a poor 
helpless servant-boy with a great cudgel. I am 
convinced that you are mistaken.” 

“ Ah ! and here is the cudgel, to be sure ! ” 
exclaimed Agathe, scrambling to her feet and 
picking it up. “Yes, it belongs to Monsieur 
Jean; he has broken dogs* bones with it before 
now.*’ 

She put it carefully aside in a corner, then 
went to the door and peeped out into the dark- 
ness. “ Joli-gars ! ” she called in a low voice. 
“ Here you are ! Come in ! I will have the 
child carried to Monsieur le Marquis. Even if 
it makes no difference, he shall know how 
Monsieur Jean amuses himself. In the chapel, 


SACRILEGE 


99 


over madame’s very grave — her favourite ser- 
vant — even I could not have believed in such 
fiendishness. But I am not afraid of the brute 
— and everyone in the place shall hear this story. 
Your father and brothers are not gone home 
yet ; we must call them, and then — tiens ! Joli- 
gars — take care how you touch him, my boy."' 

Joli-gars shrugged his shoulders as if the 
warning was hardly necessary, but he soon 
found that the task of lifting the boy was by no 
means an easy one. Still half unconscious, 
rOiselet cried and shrieked with pain as soon 
as Joli-gars attempted to move him : and the 
young man muttered remarks to Monsieur Jean’s 
intention which were neither very fit for the 
chapel nor for the ears of the nuns. At last, 
however, the suffering little frame of TOiselet 
was cradled with tolerable ease in the strong 
forester’s arms, and his groans were checked by 
a whisper in his ear : 

“ Courage, little fellow ! bear it like a man. 
If you make such a noise, mademoiselle will 
hear you.” 

Joli-gars stepped out with his burden into 
the courtyard, Agathe following. She looked 
anxiously for the prostrate form of Monsieur 
Jean, but found to her great relief that he had 
vanished. 

The two nuns remained praying in the' chapel. 
The M^re de la Mothaye felt herself torn 
between rival duties. It seemed impossible to 
leave the house of God, the resting-place of the 


100 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


dead, unguarded and exposed to the sacrilegious 
violence of men. Yet as a faithful chapelaine 
she was not happy in being away from her 
Abbess even for an hour within these unhallowed 
walls of the Chateau de Montaigle. Truly the 
world outside Fontevrault seemed to her ‘‘ full 
of darkness and cruel habitations/^ 


CHAPTER VII 

AN INTERVIEW 

The Marquis de Montaigle's library was a small 
high room in the northern tower, with two 
narrow windows which let in little daylight. It 
looked rather less dismal and dilapidated than 
the other parts of the chteau, partly because of 
the books which covered two walls in stately 
files, chiefly folio and quarto, partly because it 
was also the usual abode of the master himself. 
Here he had his great leathern chair and his 
table, on which a huge brass-bound box held 
the business papers of the estate — for Monsieur 
de Montaigle did not trust even his steward very 
far. An immense bunch of keys hung under 
the high projecting chimney-piece, which was 
handsomely carved in white stone. The rest 
of the room was hung with dark old tapestry, 
and in the corner to the left of the fireplace a 
separate piece of this concealed a very narrow 
door. 

To-night a log was smouldering on a heap of 
grey ashes under the wide black chimney. A fire 
in October was an unusual luxury for the hardy 


102 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Marquis, but the evening was cold, and the 
dreariness of that whole week had crept into his 
bones. He looked an old and shrivelled man, 
much too small for his chair, as he sat with thin 
hands pressed together and with keen, tired, 
troubled eyes fixed on his companion. 

All the proper compliments and condolences 
had been expressed in the best language by 
Madame de Fontevrault, and Monsieur de Mont- 
aigle with the same formality had thanked her 
for the kindness and attention she had shown to 
him and his in this time of trouble, and had 
politely regretted that her visit must end the 
next day. To an ordinary person it might have 
seemed difficult to escape from this atmosphere 
of unreality and good manners, and the Marquis, 
perhaps, would have been glad to remain in it. 
He was, in fact, clearing his throat to make an 
announcement which would spoil any visions 
this lady might have of the future, and would 
show her that to curtsey and retire gracefully 
was both in reason and in politeness the only 
thing to do. The Abbess, however, during a 
moment of silence and hesitation on his part, 
raised her dark eyes and considered him with 
that regard veloute which had conquered so 
many opposing spirits. It checked the words 
upon his lips, and she spoke first after all, 
raising an argument which he had for a moment 
hoped to escape. Not that anything the Abbess 
might say was likely to change his long and 
carefully formed intention, but the whole subject 


AN INTERVIEW 


103 

was painful, and any discussion of it could not 
ail to be awkward and unpleasant for him. 

‘‘ Yes, I must return home to-morrow,*' said 
Madame de Fontevrault. “ And so the question 
arises, dear cousin, of your little daughter Renee. 
But I need hardly ask, for I know your respect 
for your wife, and I cannot doubt that her dying 
wish is almost as strong in your eyes as a com- 
mand from heaven. Yes — as to that I want no 
assurance. Shall I then carry Renee away with 
me to-morrow, or will you send her to me later? ’* 
There could be no mistake as to Madame de 
Fontevrault's sincerity. The Marquis felt it, 
being an honest man, in spite of words and hints 
with which Saint-Gervais had tried to poison 
him. Her trust in Diane's husband was real, 
not feigned, and he, feeling this, had some diffi- 
culty in answering her. 

“ There are things, madame — there are con- 
siderations — " he began slowly. 

“ Ah, how well I understand all that ! " said 
Madame Gabrielle. “I know it is a hard thing 
to ask of you. I can well imagine, for instance, 
the loneliness of this great house — but, cousin, 
it seems to me that parents are called by God to 
be the most unselfish beings in His creation. 
If you think of it seriously, my friend — no doubt 
you do — ^you must see that our poor little Ren6e 
cannot very well remain here without her mother. 
She must be educated — and where better than 
at Fontevrault ? She must be cared for as she 
grows into a woman, and by whom more ten- 


104 the heiress of THE FOREST 


derly than her mother’s old friend? But you 
know all this ; why should I remind you of it ? 
And then Fontevrault is not very far off. As 
often as you will visit your little daughter I shall 
gladly receive you. You will see her grow up 
a good, happy, accomplished woman, among 
companions of her own rank. And as to her 
future life — well, you acknowledge that so far at 
least you will be repaid for your sacrifice.” 

“ Her future life : there is the difficulty,” said 
the Marquis gravely. “ If, madame, I were so 
far to give way to my poor wife’s dying fancy as 
to entrust my daughter’s education to you, what 
guarantee should I have for the future ? ” 

Madame de Fontevrault gazed at him for a 
moment before she spoke. 

‘‘ Explain yourself, if you please.” 

‘‘ Yes, madame. We must understand each 
other, and the sooner the better.” 

“ A girl’s own family naturally disposes of her 
future. That would be your affair,” said 
Madame de Fontevrault, as he did not seem 
ready with his explanation. 

She was inclined for the moment to believe 
that his old prejudice against the Mortemarts, 
his old dread of Versailles, was the real obstacle 
standing in the way. He was certainly a tire- 
some man, dull, obstinate, hard to convince, and 
even to understand. Could it be possible that 
Diane’s words had not influenced him so strongly 
after all ? And on the very day of her burial 
could he call her solemn injunction a fancy ! 


AN INTERVIEW 


105 

It was perhaps to give himself a few moments 
for reflection that he rose from his chair, took 
the poker and made an attack on the great log 
in the fireplace. The cheerful flames that 
instantly began to crackle up the chimney 
seemed to help and encourage him. He turned 
round and began to speak, standing on that side 
of the chimney-piece nearest the Abbess's chair, 

‘‘ Madame, in our first talk after you arrived 
here, you said to me that duty leads each of us 
in a different path. Do you remember?" 

“ I remember," said the Abbess, bowing her 
head, while she flushed slightly. 

‘‘It is Versailles," she thought to herself. 
“And after all, if the worthy man only knew 
it, there is not much to fear now. Things have 
changed — for good or evil, who can say — good, 
as to the soul of my poor Ath^nais ! However, 
let us listen." 

“ Your dirty," the Marquis went on — “ that is 
to say, the interests of your community " 

He half paused and looked at her. She bent 
her head again, thinking — “ Other things too, 
but it is not necessary to enter into that." 

“ Well, you gave me to understand that duty 
led you to Versailles, and kept you there for 
months at a time, in an atmosphere from which 
your moral sense revolted." 

“ And what is that to you, my excellent 
friend, and how does it affect your little 
daughter?" thought the Abbess, but she only 
bowed once more. 


io6 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Your duty, madame, is to your community. 
Mine is to my family.'* 

“ That is undeniable, cousin." 

A smile trembled round Madame Gabrielle*s 
pretty mouth. 

“ My poor Diane ! ** she thought for the 
hundredth time. “Was your husband in the 
habit of boring you with truisms like this ! ** 

“ When I say ‘ my family,' I mean the house 
of Montaigle. It depends on me to consolidate 
the house, and to make it a real power in 
France. I have two other estates as large as 
this, madame. I have family documents dating 
from the earliest ages ; I have heirlooms which 
almost equal the crown jewels of France in 
value. These are not only great possessions, 
Madame I'Abbesse, they are great responsi- 
bilities." 

The Marquis spoke without ostentation, and 
with his eyes fixed on the ground. He had 
indeed almost the air of being ashamed of what 
he was saying, and it seemed as if he must feel 
the strange incongruity of his plain and shabby 
little self with the riches and importance that 
belonged to him. 

“ My three sons died," he went on in the same 
dry, quiet tone. “I am left with no one but a 
daughter to inherit all this. In times like these, 
greedy, heartless, avaricious, could I leave her 
to be the prize of any fortune-hunter who might 
succeed in forcing himself into the family ? On 
the contrary, my last son was no sooner dead 


AN INTERVIEW 


107 


than I began to consider my daughter’s future. 
The younger branch of my family is equally 
distinguished with the elder, though not so rich. 
The only son of my cousin Saint-Gervais, 
marrying my daughter, might naturally obtain 
my succession as Marquis de Montaigle. Becom- 
ing head of the family, he would appear to be 
the just heir to all its possessions. Could I fail? 
in this case, to see where lay my duty ? ” 

“And do you carry the parallel still further 
between your duty and mine ? ” said the Abbess 
gravely and gently. “ Is this arrangement one 
from which your moral sense revolts ? Yes, 
cousin — or why should your wife, so good and 
dutiful, so submissive to you, so faithful to your 
interests, have forbidden this marriage with her 
last breath ? ” 

Monsieur de Montaigle paced once or twice 
up and down the room, while the Abbess’s eyes 
followed him musingly. At last he stopped 
again in front of her. 

“ The affairs of this world,” he said, “ should 
be managed by men and not by women. In 
such matters men are not guided by personal 
fancy. Suppose the kings of France, for 
instance, depended for their succession on the 
humours and prejudices of a group of women — I 
like him, I do not like him ; he is handsome, he 
is ugly ! How could the State continue at all 
under such guidance ? In fact, its founders felt 
this so strongly that they made the Salic Law.” 

“The founder of my Abbey of Fontevrault 


io8 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

was of a different opinion. However — you mean 
that your wife was guided by prejudice and 
personal fancy, and that she said of your future 
son-in-law and successor, ‘ I do not like him. 
He is ugly ! * 

“Your poor cousin was a fanciful person, 
madame,'’ said the Marquis, but he turned his 
face away to hide the involuntary shadow of a 
smile. 

“ Possibly — but she was not an unreasonable 
person. She asked no more from life than it 
gave her. I repeat that she was dutiful, sub- 
missive and faithful, and that your interests and 
those of your house were dear to her. Still it 
may well be that the happiness of her child was 
dearer still — and, to tell you the truth, cousin, 
though I have only seen Monsieur de Vassy at 
a distance, and have not spoken to him, I think 
he is a bad and cruel-looking young man. 
Stupid too — the qualities often go together. If 
I were you, I should hesitate before placing my 
estates and heirlooms in the hands of Monsieur 
de Vassy, to say nothing of my daughter.'' 

“ Romance — romance ! It is a family arrange- 
ment. Jean is a rough diamond, I grant you, 
but life will polish him. The marriage cannot 
take place for years yet/^ ~ 

“ So much the better," murmured Madame de 
Fontevrault. “ If he is a diamond — but never 
did I meet with a precious stone that looked so 
like a lump of mud. — Your sense of duty is 
indeed all-powerful," she said aloud — “ and I 


AN INTERVIEW 


109 


can well understand that your moral sense 
revolts from such a family arrangement/' 

Monsieur de Montaigle glanced at her un- 
easily. 

“Madame, the expression is too strong," he 
said. “Jean de Vassy may not be all that you 
or I could wish — and he had the misfortune not 
to please my wife — but he is a gentleman, and I 
have never known him do anything unworthy 
of the name he bears. Were he a worse boor 
than he is — there he stands, without our choos- 
ing, the last hope of the house of Montaigle, and 
I at least, therefore, feel bound to accept him, 
I will not deny that my wife’s words shook me a 
little — a man is weak at such moments — but I 
should despise myself if they had power to change 
my deliberate intention." 

“ And you will not even give me the care of 
the child while she is young ? That was Diane's 
most earnest wish. That was why she sent 
for me, to commend her child for my protec- 
tion." 

“ She sent for you ! " said the Marquis quickly. 
“I thought you had heard of her illness by 
chance." 

“ I allowed you to think so, cousin, because I 
did not then know you as I do now. I see now 
that you are a generous man, that you loved 
your wife, and would not have grudged any 
comfort that might reach her during those last 
hours." 

“You do me justice, madame. But Diane 


no THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


knew me — why did she not ask me to send for 
you ? God knows I should not have refused 
her/' 

“To tell you the whole truth, she feared that 
the intrigues of others might step in — that if a 
messenger was known to be going from you to 
me he might never reach me.” 

“ It is possible,” said the Marquis, beginning 
again to pace the room. “ Your coach-wheels 
were not a welcome sound to all ears. For in- 
stance, you arrived in time to stop the writing 
out and signing of a formal promise of betrothal, 
on which my cousins Saint-Gervais had set their 
hearts.” 

“ And that formal promise is not yet made ? ” 

“ No. I am not very sorry for that. I think 
Renee is too young. My intention is promise 
enough, and so I have since told Saint-Gervais.” 

“ You are perfectly right. But — to return to 
my question — will you not so far grant your 
wife’s dying request as to entrust the child to 
my care, at least for the present ? ” 

“No, madame,” he answered, in grave, de- 
cided tones. “ Personally, I beg you to believe, 
I have the fullest confidence in you — ^but Madame 
de Saint-Gervais has her own strong views on 
the education of young gfrls, and it is the subject 
— as you may have heard — which preoccupies 
her friend, the Marquise de Maintenon.” 

“ Ah ! voyons,” said the Abbess, with a slight 
laugh, “ then our poor little Renee is to go to 
Versailles after all ! ” 


AN INTERVIEW 


1 1 1 


“ I have heard it said that there are two 
Versailles,’* replied the Marquis, drily. 

After this there was a silence of several 
minutes, only broken by the crackling of the 
fire. Any other woman but Gabrielle de Roche- 
chouart might very well have considered herself 
defeated, and could have retired gracefully with 
a good conscience, feeling that she had done 
her best, if in vain, for Diane and Diane’s child. 
And perhaps Monsieur de Montaigle wondered 
what more the reverend lady could have to say 
to him. He showed no impatience, however, 
but sat down quietly and folded his thin hands 
together, a dismal figure enough in the dimly- 
lighted room. 

“You are not alarmed, then,” said Madame 
de Fontevrault suddenly, “ when you think of 
Diane’s last words ? You are not afraid to 
draw down the malediction of that pure soul 
upon your house? You can bear the thought 
of her showing herself to you, as the visible 
guardian of her child ? ” 

“ Madame, I am not superstitious, but neither 
am I irreligious. If I see my duty, and do it 
honestly, I do not believe that any such fears 
need trouble me. I cannot think that disem- 
bodied spirits are allowed to torment us un- 
reasonably.” 

“ Unreasonahly ! perhaps not,” the Abbess 
murmured in reply. To her, who had received 
Diane’s last sigh, the difficulty was to realise 
her absence, not her presence. Could all that 


1 12 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


passionate love, that deep anxiety, be quenched 
in a moment when the soul was freed from the 
body ? It was indeed a matter for musing. 

But such reflections, not having the nature of 
a practical argument, would evidently be quite 
thrown away on the dry philosopher sitting 
there. Neither could the Abbess resolve, though 
the idea flashed across her mind, to tell him 
that in her view pious hypocrisy might end in 
making a worse Versailles than the other. For 
the moment she really felt defeated on all sides. 
But yet she did not rise and go. She sat still in 
her chair, tapping gently with her fingers on 
the table close by. Vaguely she felt that there 
was something in gaining time, something in 
keeping Rente's father for a few extra minutes 
away from the Saint-Gervais relations. 

The Marquis was the first to move or speak. 
He got up suddenly, as if he could restrain 
himself no longer. With a shrug and a grim 
smile, flourishing his hands with the air of 
dismissing a tiresome subject, he bowed to the 
Abbess and said, ^‘If I cannot oblige you in 
this matter, madame, may I hope that we shall 
continue the friendship begun at such a painful 
time ? You will treat me for the future as a 
cousin, and you will find me sincerely at your 
service, and at that of your community.'' 

The Abbess thanked him graciously. These, 
after all, were concessions from such a person, 
and it would not be in Rente’s interest to quarrel 
with her father. 


AN INTERVIEW 


113 

“Rely on my constant good-will, my dear 
cousin,’* she said. “ I shall recommend you and 
your child to the prayers of the best among us. 
You will not find that an injury, I think.” 

“ On the contrar)'-, madame,*’ he assured 
her. 

She was in the act of rising to take leave of 
him, when with a slight hesitation he begged 
her to remain a few moments longer. 

“ I have something to show you,** he said. 

She was only too glad, and watched him with 
interest as he took a small key from a chain, 
unlocked the box upon the table, took out a 
larger key, lifted the tapestry which curtained 
the narrow door by the fireplace, and unlocked 
it. Inside there was a smaller door of iron, 
which he opened with a key hidden inside the 
first door. The shelves of a high narrow cup- 
board were loaded with boxes, some of steel, 
some of leather. The Marquis lifted one small 
box down, and set it on the table. He then 
lighted six candles in two gilt candlesticks, un- 
locked the box, and took out from among a 
number of rings one, at sight of which the 
Abbess’s eyes brightened and her cheeks red- 
dened a little. It was a very beautiful sapphire, 
set in large diamonds, which flashed wonder- 
fully. At the back of the stone was a little gold 
box that opened, containing a scrap of dark 
hair: on the lid of this the initials D.G. were 
traced in the tiniest brilliants. 

“ You have seen it before ? said Monsieur de 
H 


1 14 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Montaigle, with a keen glance : then leaning 
forward he laid the ring on the Abbess's^palm. 

“Certainly/^ she said. “It is the ring that 
my mother gave Diane at her marriage. I saw 
it then. You will give it to Ren6e when — she 
is old enough ? 

“ Non, ma cousine,*’ said the Marquis gently. 
“ I give it to you.'’ 

“ I cannot accept it,’' said Madame Gabrielle. 
“ No ! I would accept Ren^e herself, but not a 
jewel that ought to be hers. Put it back, I 
beg ! — I insist ! " she added, as he made no 
movement to take it. 

He looked at her gravely and shook his head. 
“ It is your mother's ring," he said — “ a family 
ring of your own. I think you have more right 
to it than we Montaigles." 

“It is not a Mortemart jewel," said the 
Abbess. “ The initials are my mother's own 
and Diane's. ^It goes naturally to Diane’s 
child." 

“ Diane never wore it," he said wearily. “ She 
hated jewels. Most of her own, after the death 
of the children, she caused to be set in sacred 
vessels for the chapel. Some indeed she sold, 
to endow her hospital for, the sick poor. All 
this with my consent. There could be no 
daughters-in-law to be decked out, and as for 
the little girl ’’ — he waved his hand towards the 
open cupboard — “ no heiress in France has more 
magnificent jewels than lie waiting for her there. 
Most of them are heirlooms. As I have explained 


AN INTERVIEW 


115 

to you, they will remain without question in the 
family/’ 

The Abbess bent her head with a touch of 
impatience. 

Yes ; I have heard of the treasures of Mon- 
taigle,” she said. “ Let us hope they may always 
be in worthy hands. As to this ring ” 

“ Do me the favour of keeping it, at least for 
the present. Some day, if you choose, you can 
give it yourself to Renee.” 

The Abbess looked at the ring as it lay flash- 
ing on her hand in the yellow candle-light, and 
suddenly changed her mind, as it seemed. 

“ Well, cousin, I will keep it. And Renee 
shall have it some day. She shall have it when 
she makes a marriage to please her mother — 
peace be with her — and me.” 

A curious suspicious glance darted across 
from the Marquis’s sunken eyes. 

“ You know that cannot be,” he said, almost 
roughly. 

“Then I will keep the ring among my own 
treasures at Fontevrault for the sake of my 
mother and of Diane.” 

“ You are not very like Madame la Duchesse 
de Mortemart ” 

“No; her nieces were more like her than her 
own children. I was more difficult to manage 
than our poor Diane. We were true Morte- 
marts.” 

She sighed, then smiled, and lifted her 
befiutiful dark eyes to the withered visage op- 


ii6 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


posite. “ Your little Renee has no Mortemart 
blood, it is true 

The Marquis shrugged his shoulders, and mut- 
tered an ungracious word of thanksgiving. 

“ But if her face tells true, she is not of the 
submissive nature of her mother and grand- 
mother. I think it is a character that may be 
led, but never driven. And I know something 
of young girls, cousin, though I may not have 
the great experience of Madame de Maintenon, 
and may detest, as I do, her system of education. 

“I am ignorant on these subjects,'' said Mon- 
sieur de Montaigle, in his driest tones. “I only 
know that my daughter will understand her duty 
to her family, and will do it." 

“ I congratulate you," said the Abbess, with a 
slightly satirical smile. 

She was again rising to take her leave, when 
he, attracted in spite of himself by this woman 
of a hated and dreaded race, and sorry in the 
queer twists of his mind for continued opposition, 
though necessary, and occasional rudeness of 
plain-speaking such as she, in those courteous 
times, had probably never met with before, 
asked her to remain yet a few minutes. She 
smiled and remained, still ready, for Diane’s 
sake, to conciliate him. 

He then turned again to his cupboard of trea- 
sures, lifted down box after box from its deep 
shelves, set them on the table before her and 
opened them one after another, till the whole 
far-famed treasure of Montaigle lay spread 


AN INTERVIEW 


”7 


beneath her eyes. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, 
sapphires, pearls, gifts of kings and queens and 
princes in centuries long gone by. The chains 
of great pearls which one ancestor had brought 
from the East, the diamond coronet and neck- 
lace and long ear-rings which the wife of the 
head of the house had always worn at Court. 
Rings by hundreds, heavy bracelets like fetters 
of wrought gold and precious stones. Jewelled 
snuff-boxes, of more modern fashion, but found 
by their present possessor far too gorgeous to 
be used, with many magnificent trifles that a 
great lady would naturally have scattered about 
her rooms, but which the last Marquise had 
willingly seen buried in darkness. 

Sadness gathered on Madame Gabrielle’s face 
as she watched old Mathieu de Montaigle among 
his family treasures. To a mind like hers, the 
religious, the student of Plato, all this was trash, 
and worse than trash, when one considered its 
value. To keep all this in the Montaigle family 
a girFs life was to be sacrificed. The idea 
seemed the lowest heathenism. No wonder if 
the thought of these treasures had been a heavy 
weight round Diane’s neck ; no wonder if she 
had not cared to wear such signs of bondage. 

Yet Madame de Fontevrault was very far from 
despising beautiful things in themselves. One 
by one she held the beautiful old ornaments in 
her fingers, heard their story, admired the per- 
fection of the gems, while she noticed with a 
touch of indulgent scorn their owner’s pride in 


ii8 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


them. He was no longer the dry stick he had 
been before. His whole face softened, his eyes 
shone with enjoyment. It was in a positively 
triumphant tone that he said at last, waving his 
hands over the magnificent display in the light 
of his six wax candles, “You see, madame, the 
name and the heirlooms are worth preserving 
together.*" 

She had not had time to answer — and indeed 
an instant answer was difficult to find —when 
there came a tramping of feet on the stone stairs 
outside the door, followed by a heavy, impatient 
knocking. 


CHAPTER VIII 


ACCUSATION 

The sudden and unceremonious clatter startled 
both Monsieur de Montaigle and his guest. 
Their servants were taught to scratch gently at 
doors, not to thunder with their fists. With a 
quick glance at his treasures he cried out “ Who 
is there ? 

But this brought no delay. Any answer was 
enough for those outside ; the door flew open, 
and the four tall foresters tramped into the 
room, Agathe the waiting-maid hurrying after 
them. She dived under their great elbows to 
the front of the group, and pointed with eager 
fingers to the burden Joli-gars was carrying. It 
looked like a dead child. 

“ Mon Dieu ! What is that r cried Madame 
de Fontevrault, hastily rising. 

“Do not disturb yourself,’’ the Marquis said 
to her. He went on, frowning — “ What are you 
doing here, Guillaume ? Is it the custom to 
burst into my private room without leave ? Go 
away, all of you ! I cannot speak to you now.’' 

The four men stood blinking and silent, dazzled 


120 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


by the candles and the diamonds, overawed for 
the moment by the stately room, to them indeed 
an inner sanctuary, by their master's stern voice, 
by the dignity of Madame de Fontevrault and 
her black and white draperies. But Agathe 
came further forward, still pointing to Joli-gars 
and the boy in his arms. 

“Monsieur le Marquis does not see," she said. 
“ There is our excuse — Madame's poor Oiselet, 
almost beaten to death — and monsieur will 
never believe where f " 

“ L'Oiselet beaten ! who has done this ? I 
warn you all that he shall pay for it," said the 
Marquis. 

For the moment there was real feeling in his 
voice. He then went forward at once, made 
Joli-gars lay the boy down on the couch; and 
then, while Agathe held a candle, he and the 
Abbess examined the boy's hurts. 

L’Oiselet cried and groaned piteously as they 
moved him, but did not seem able to speak. 
Old Guillaume stood watching with keen fierce 
eyes; Joli-gars, flushed and staring, looked both 
handsomer and more stupid than usual ; Grand- 
Gui was pale under his sunburn, with hands 
tight clenched and teeth set ; it was easy to see 
that he cared more than any of them for the 
little fellow's pain ; Gars-cogne grinned in the 
shadow, and his eyes devoured the display on 
the table. 

“ He is sore and bruised from head to foot, 
but I think no bones are broken," the Marquis 


ACCUSATION 


I2I 


said at last. ‘‘ Take him up, one of you, carry 
him to his bed, and let Gobert send for Pierrot. 
And get away with you all. I shall inquire into 
this later, but you see that I am busy now. I 
cannot attend to your quarrels and brawls now. 
Yes, my good Guillaume, I understand that you 
want the fellow punished, but that must be 
another day.*' 

“ But monsieur — monsieur" — Agathe began, 
seconded by an angry grunt from the old 
forester. ‘‘There are things — terrible things — 

that monsieur will hardly believe " 

“I tell you another day," and the Marquis 
turned his back upon them. “As for you, 
Agathe, this is not your business. Go back to 
your young mistress." 

“ If monsieur would let me speak " 

“I will not let you speak. Be gone — all of 
you — Madame TAbbesse, I am sorry you have 
been disturbed. Sit down again, I beg." 

“ Do not think of me, if it is right that you 
should hear what these good people have to say. 
It may be important," said the Abbess, to whose 
quick intelligence something in the men's faces, 
something in Agathe's voice and manner, had 
already conveyed a suspicion of the truth. 

“ They are afraid to name the brute who has 
attacked this helpless child," she said to herself. 
“ And does my cousin Montaigle suspect any- 
thing, I wonder ? Since the first moment, he has 
not asked who it was, and he is trying to hush 
up matters while I am here. Poor foolish man ! 


122 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


But poor little Renee ! What shall I do ? Still 
it may not be so — but it is/’ 

Stem, pale, and preoccupied. Monsieur de 
Montaigle stood with his back to the rest of the 
room, staring into the fire. For a moment or 
two he gave the Abbess no answer. Then he 
started a little and said, “Merci! — merci! It 
is of no importance.” 

Joli-gars, in obedience to a sign from Agathe, 
now took up his load again. Grand-Gui had 
stepped forward to lift the child whom he loved, 
but was checked by his father’s iron grasp on 
his arm, and a loud whisper — “Let the fool go!” 
Agathe shrugged her shoulders and made a face 
at her master’s back, then slipped towards the 
door, followed by her chosen giant with heavy 
tread. The other three men stood like rugged 
trees in their places. From the bent of old Guil- 
laume’s shaggy brows, it might be guessed that 
their seigneur would not get rid of them so 
easily. 

Before Joli-gars and Agathe, with their charge, 
had reached the door, they were stopped by a 
most unexpected arrival. Hardly waiting for a 
muttered word of announcement from the valet 
who ran up before them. Monsieur and Madame 
de Saint-Gervais appeared in the Marquis’s 
library, and close on them followed Jean de 
Vassy with his head bound up. 

An extraordinary snarl was heard, and at the 
same time I’Oiselet cried out sharply : his 
bearer had given him an involuntary squeeze. 


ACCUSATION 


23 


The snarl had escaped from the throat of Grand- 
Gui, silenced by a kick from his father that 
made him wince and stand on one leg. Mon- 
sieur Jean turned crimson as his victim was car- 
ried past him in the doorway, and hearty scowls 
were exchanged by J oli-gars and himself. Agathe 
turned round, showing her teeth, and beckoned 
the young man to hurry. 

‘‘ Don't you see, noodle ? " she said to him on 
the stairs, “ they are come to complain of you. 
He looks a pretty object with his head tied up, 
the young master ! Uglier than ever, I declare." 

“ He can't swear it was me, ma'mselle ; he 
only saw my leg, if that indeed," said Joli-gars 
with some anxiety. “ And Monsieur le Marquis 
would take my part if he knew " 

“ Ah, but the deuce is in it, he won't let any 
one tell him ! Never mind, if it comes out in 
time to save Mademoiselle Renee, I shall not 
trouble myself about your big bones. Come 
along. As soon as the boy is laid in his bed, 
you shall run and fetch the barber." 

“I believe I'd best run away altogether," 
Joli-gars muttered, as he scrambled obediently 
downstairs. 

Jean de Vassy could not keep himself from 
staring at the three foresters, who stood there like 
statues of vengeance. He knew they had come 
to accuse him. Somebody had certainly thrown 
him down ; probably, he now thought, one of 
them. He saw it all. He had been watched, 
though the cowards had not dared to follow him 


124 the heiress of the forest 


into the chapel and to stop the boy's punish- 
ment. Then a slight shudder came over him at 
the thought of the figure in the gallery. How tall 
and white it had been ! how hollow its voice ! 
Certainly it was like no other voice he knew, and 
in his own heart he felt pretty sure that he had 
seen and heard the buried Marquise. She was 
keeping her word pretty soon, to be sure. He 
had said nothing of the apparition to his father 
or mother. He could not have explained his 
presence in the chapel ; he thought it best not to 
boast of having beaten TOiselet, in case any one 
should be angry. So he went up to his mother's 
room with a bleeding head, shaking with terror 
which he tried to hide, and told his parents that 
a man had set upon him and knocked him down 
in the courtyard, without provocation. His 
father hardly believed him, it was plain ; but his 
mother did; and Monsieur de Saint-Gervais 
could not refuse to go with her to their cousin, 
to complain of what had happened. 

“ Ah, pardon, Mathieu," said the Comte, with 
graceful carelessness. “ Shall we retire ? We 
came to settle a small matter, to make a little 
remonstrance, a little announcement. But we 
will leave it all till to-morrow, if you please, and 
will merely wish you and Madame TAbbesse 
good-night. Forgive our intrusion, madame," 
with a low bow. 

The Marquis, however, had already handed 
Madame de Saint-Gervais to a seat. She looked 
up at her husband disapprovingly, and said : 


ACCUSATION 


125 


“You forget ; to-morrow will not be quite the 
same/' 

“ I think so," said the Comte, drily. “ Our 
cousin is too much surrounded now." 

He threw a half scornful, half curious glance 
toward the end of the room. 

“ Forest business which cannot wait, I suppose. 
Autumn is coming on — the wolves are probably 
giving trouble." 

“True, Monsieur le Comte. We are after a 
wolf," came in a sudden hoarse growl from the 
throat of old Guillaume. 

There was something fateful, terrible, in the 
sight of those three as they stood together. 
Alexandre de Saint- Gervais and his son were 
both men of a fair height, but they looked puny 
near the foresters. Struck by the old man's 
tone, the Comte stared at him for a moment, 
then laughed slightly. 

At the same time the church bells, which had 
been silent for an hour or two, broke out wild 
and melancholy into the funeral chime. Ever 
since the Marquise died the bells had been 
chiming, and they would go on till forty days 
were over. Jean de Vassy turned pale and his 
teeth chattered as the solemn clang, borne by a 
west wind, seemed to fill the room. The two 
ladies and the foresters crossed themselves. 

After a moment, to the joy of the newcomers, 
Madame de Fontevrault wished them all good- 
night. Monsieur de Montaigle took a light from 
the valet at the door and led her down the first 


126 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


flight of stairs. Then he kissed her hand and 
thanked her for her good company. 

I too/' she said, thank you for yourpatience, 
and for all you have told me and shown me to- 
night, and for the trust of this ring. I have 
ordered my coach for six o’clock to-morrow 
morning ; with your leave, my chaplain will 
say mass in the chapel at five.” 

I shall be there,” said the Marquis. 

And one word more, dear cousin. There is 
something I wish you to remember for my sake — 
that Renee has a Father in heaven, and that she, 
as well as everything else that belongs to you, is 
merely lent to you by Him. To Him you are 
responsible for that young life and the ways in 
which you lead it. Remember too, that all your 
walls and towers, your estates, your jewels and 
treasures are nothing in eternity. When you lie 
as Diane lies, when your soul is judged in the 
high court of heaven, the first question asked 
will not be — have you taken any means, fair or 
foul, to perpetuate the name and honours of 
Montaigle r ” 

It was not now a woman of the world, even a 
religious woman ; it was more like an angel 
speaking, and with authority which came from 
far. Monsieur de Montaigle bowed once more 
over the white hand with the Abbess’s ring. 

“ Yes, you are right,” he said wearily. ‘‘ But 
I must do my duty as I see it. We shall be 
judged by our own conscience and how we have 
obeyed it. Good-night, madame.” 


ACCUSATION 


127 


They parted ; and slowly, with one or two 
sighs, the little Marquis climbed back to his 
library. 

There the atmosphere was electric. Since she 
first came into the room, Madame de Saint- 
Gervais’s eyes and attention had been almost 
entirely occupied with the display upon the 
table. Many a time she had thought covetously 
of the Montaigle treasures, which till now she 
had never seen. The candles flickered, and a 
thousand little coloured flames seemed dancing 
on the black oak table; those clustered diamonds 
caught her eyes and held them ; the sight almost 
stopped both thought and breath at first. Then 
there rose a great vronder in her mind. Why 
were the jewels spread out here, now ? It was 
not like old Mathieu de Montaigle, cautious and 
miserly. Apparently he had not only shown his 
heirlooms to Madame de Fontevrault, whom she 
hated all the more for it, but to a crowd of 
peasants. She looked up to call her husband’s 
and Jean’s attention to the amazing sight, but 
saw that they had other matters of interest. 

Alexandre, who sometimes made it his role to 
try for popularity, had moved with lazy grace a 
little nearer to the old forester and his sons 
where they stood waiting. He began with one 
or two trifling questions, to which Guillaume 
grunted answers under his shaggy moustache. 
Then he asked casually : 

“ By-the-by, is any one hurt ? There was a 
cry as we came in, and one of you carried a 


128 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


child out of the room. What happened ? Who 
was it ? ’’ 

He hardly cared for an answer, but some one 
else was listening for it anxiously, standing there 
with throbbing head and sulky eyes cast down. 
He had a moment’s suspense, for the old man 
seemed to reflect before he answered gruffly and 
suddenly, 

“ Ask Monsieur Jean.” 

The Comte was effectually startled from his 
indifference. He turned round, and his eyes, 
keen like steel, flashed the question into those 
that were sullenly raised to meet them. He 
muttered an oath, half drew his sword and 
dashed it back, then turned again to the forester 
and hissed through his teeth, “ Villain — you 
dare ! Tell me the name this moment, and with- 
out insolence, or ” 

“But yes. Monsieur le Comte,” said the old 
peasant, standing like a rock, while Grand-Gui 
frowned on one side, and Gars-cogne grinned on 
the other — “ It was TOiselet the dwarf. A strong 
man could beat such a little fellow within an 
inch of his life without much risk to his own 
bones, you see. But a broken head is better than 
nothing, and we’ll hope there’s worse to come.” 

Gars-cogne, encouraged by his father’s fear- 
less speech, muttered something thick and 
indistinct about “ my hands on his throat,” but 
was silenced by a dig in the ribs and, “ Hold 
thy foolish dog’s tongue ! ” 

“You are a fine liar, fellow, as well as a fine 


ACCUSATION 


129 


woodman/' said the Comte more coolly. “ You 
are making up this story to shield your louts of 
sons. I wager it was one of them who beat the 
dwarf, probably the same who dared to trip up 
my son in malicious horse-play. Your master 
will hear all, and you will be punished, I assure 
you." 

‘‘Ay, sir, my master shall hear all, and more 
than will please you," said the old man. 

The Marquis now came back into the room, 
and all fell silent as he walked, grave and 
stooping, to his chair near the fire. Alexandre 
de Saint-Gervais turned his back on the foresters 
and sat down near his cousin. Jean looked at 
his mother; he would have been glad of her 
advice, but she was very white, and would not 
even look at him. Anyhow it was cheering that 
his father, generally so hard upon him, should 
see fit to take his part now. 

Madame de Saint-Gervais began to speak, 
and made a formal complaint to Monsieur de 
Montaigle of the conduct of some of his servants, 
who had made an unprovoked attack on Jean, 
and injured him seriously. 

“ Unprovoked ? " [repeated the Marquis, look- 
ing at Jean. 

“ Indeed, monsieur, I had done nothing to the 
fellow. I do not even know who it was." 

“ Ha ! Then how do you expect me to punish 
him?" 

“ Surely you will not refuse to make an in- 
quiry ? " said Madame de Saint-Gervais. 

I 


130 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


She glanced impatiently at her husband, just 
now so energetic, lounging in his chair and 
watching Jean with those cruel, mocking eyes 
of his. With her mind and soul full of the dia- 
monds, she had hardly understood the few 
violent words that had passed between him and 
old Guillaume ; she had hardly realised what 
else had happened, or what Jean was accused 
of. But it all dawned upon her, and she turned 
a little pale, listening to her cousin Montaigle’s 
reply. 

“ It seems that I hear of nothing but brawls,'* 
he said. “ A strange time to turn this house 
into a country fair, with cudgellings and broken 
heads. Is the same person responsible for all, 
and who is he ? " 

He frowned darkly, looking round the room. 
He seemed to have forgotten that he had ordered 
the foresters away, and at a motion of his hand. 
Father Guillaume marched forward to the foot 
of the table and stood blinking in the candle- 
light. 

“ I could make a hit not far from the mark," 
said Monsieur de Saint-Gervais, half to himself, 
“ Go on, cousin ; you are on the track." 

‘‘ Pardon ! " old Mathieu’s stern eyes were on 
him. “Young men are all the better for a few 
trials of strength, and I do not think much of 
your Jean's fall. In my young days, it would 
not have been worth mentioning, but these times 
are softer." 

“ If it were a mere fall, I should agree with 


ACCUSATION 


131 

you/* said the Comte. “ But accompanied with 
malicious threats, and probably the work of a 
peasant, a manant^ a big-limbed, blustering vil- 
lage bully ** 

He paused, for his cousin was smiling grimly, 
while old Guillaume’s knotted hands could be 
seen to clench themselves. 

‘‘ Even in such a case,” said the Marquis, ‘‘ I 
should hardly have complained to my father and 
mother. If I had — but this is not profitable. I 
will not have brawling in my house. I told you, 
Guillaume, that I would inquire into TOiselet’s 
case another day. I have changed my mind. 
The same unknown man who fought in the dark 
with Monsieilr le Vicomte may have amused 
himself with beating a child. I believe you came 
here to accuse some one. Who is it ? He shall 
be punished, and severely.” 

The faces of the two Saint-Gervais were both 
turned upon their son ; the father’s full of scorn 
and fury, the mother’s of half-believing horror. 
This fool, then, had done his best to ruin their 
prospects and his own. Whether the Marquis 
had any suspicions in the right quarter, it was 
impossible to say. He looked at no one but his 
old forester, and his face did not change as he 
waited for an answer. Jean also stood staring 
at the old man ; his eyes very round, his colour 
changing quickly. He was beginning to see the 
consequences of having indulged his love of re- 
venge and tyranny. 

But Pere Guillaume gave the enemy an unex- 


132 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

pected advantage, for he began to hesitate. Now 
that his master asked for the story, it was not 
ready for him. There is no being on earth more 
ruse, more cautious, more self-preserving, than the 
French peasant. Brute courage these four giants 
had in plenty ; their great strength gave them 
confidence. But when it came to committing 
themselves by words, running into danger of an 
unknown sort, they were wont to tread very care- 
fully. Guillaume knew that he had already ac- 
cused Monsieur Jean to his face — yes, he would 
not draw back from that — but he was now busy 
thinking how to shield Joli-gars, his youngest 
and really best-beloved, from the future malice 
of these Saint-Gervais demons, which might 
work so well through the steward, his enemy. 
There seemed only one way ; a woman’s witness 
would not be so perilous ; Ma’mselle Agathe was 
quite able to take care of herself. As it must 
never be known that the foot of Joli-gars had 
been the instrument of Monsieur Jean’s trouble, 
his name must not be mentioned at all in the 
story. 

These considerations gave a certain doubtful- 
ness to the old man’s manner when he at last 
began to speak. 

‘‘ Monsieur le Marquis — as to accusing, do you 
see — it was Ma’mselle Agathe’s story, but mon- 
sieur would not let her speak. As to me and 
my sons, we were in the stable-yard, preparing 
to go home after this day— this terrible day — and 
she fetched us to help her carry the child Oiselet 


ACCUSATION 


33 


into the chateau from the place where she had 
found him/' 

“ Where was that ? " 

Grand-Gui's face in the background lengthened 
into the deepest melancholy. Gars-cogne grinned 
more broadly than ever. 

“ Monsieur, the chapel," growled their father 
from the depths of his great chest. “ Ma'mselle 
Agathe heard a noise in the chapel. She found 
rOiselet half dead on the stone — the very stone 
— over the very place — ah, mon Dieu ! " and his 
voice died away in a string of muttered impre- 
cations. 

The silence then was only broken by the always 
chiming bells, and Madame de Saint- Gervais 
turned paler than ever. This sounded like wicked- 
ness, sacrilege of an awful kind. Suppose the 
boy had died ! This was far worse than the mad 
foolhardiness she had at first suspected. And 
guilt was written on Jean's face. And at that 
moment Mathieu de Montaigle raised sad stern 
eyes and looked at him. His voice was odd and 
changed when he spoke. 

“ And Agathe saw no one ? What became of 
the wretch ? Did he escape ? " 

“ Monsieur, she saw a .man running through 
the darkness." 

“ It is possible," said Madame de Saint-Gervais 
suddenly, while she trembled very much, “ that 
this man, crossing the courtyard in his hurry to 
escape, ran against Jean and knocked him down. 
Is it possible, Jean ? " 


134 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


Her son answered by an indistinct grunt. 

“That does not signify/' said the Marquis 
coolly. “ Who was the man, Guillaume ? " 

“ Monsieur, it was already twilight, nearly 
dark under the trees. How could the woman 
see him plainly ? But she found his stick in the 
chapel." 

“ Whose stick ? " 

“ Monsieur le Vicomte's stick — which has 
broken the bones of half the dogs in the village." 

Madame de Saint-Gervais started and cried, 
“What a lie!" 

Her husband's hand flew again to his sword ; 
but he recollected himself, shrugged his shoulders 
and said gravely, “Cousin Montaigle, do you 
allow your fellow to make such an accusation 
against my son — your kinsman — possibly your 
successor ? " 

“ That never ! " snarled old Guillaume, and 
Grand-Gui echoed his father's words. 

The Comte settled himself in his chair with 
his back to them, and laughed sourly. “ On my 
honour, these men think themselves members of 
the family, if not masters of the house. To a 
reasonable person it seems a pity 1 " 

“We are members of the family, Monsieur le 
Comte," said the old peasant proudly, before his 
master could speak. “ I was the foster-father of 
Madame la Marquise, and these hands that you 
see held Mademoiselle Ren^e at the font. Truly 
she has no other grandfather. And I say, once 
for all, that she shall not be married to Monsieur 


ACCUSATION 


* r-35 

Jean, against her mother’s will. And we will not 
have one of his sort as our seigneur at Montaigle.” 

Monsieur de Saint-Gervais laughed again. 
The sound was followed grimly enough by a 
wolfish growl from the corner where Gars-cogne 
stood towering. 

“ My dear cousin, this old man is surely mad. 
What he says is all of a piece. Jean is not an 
angel in goodness, or a girl in gentleness, or a 
philosopher in wisdom, but he is neither fiend 
nor fool enough to have maltreated a wretched 
dwarf and under such circumstances. Plainly, 
to yne, this is a plot to blacken him in your eyes, 
cousin. You., observe that neither these men 

nor the woman dare say that they saw and 
recognized hirPo lAs for hi3 stick, that may well 
have been an accidenib,. He may have lost it ; it 
may have been stolen. Was your stick stolen 
suddenly turning on his wretched son. “ Yes ? I 
thought so. Then you will be able to deny this 
preposterous accusation point-blank.” 

‘‘ If he denies it,” said old Guillaume, “ he will 
be a liar as well as a coward.” 

The old fellow’s blood was up, and short of 
exposing Joli-gars to the Saint-Gervais’ ven- 
geance he would have said or done anything to 
prove the case against them. To his mind Jean’s 
stick was evidence enough, and he wondered 
that it should not seem so to his master. After 
all, perhaps it did, for since the stick was men- 
tioned Monsieur de Montaigle had held his 
peace and allowed his cousin to talk. 


136 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


The old man stretched his long figure and lean 
neck over the table, resting on both his outspread 
hands. His fierce eyes gleamed and his grey 
beard wagged in wrathful agitation. He tried 
to see if the seigneur was angry with him for his 
strong language ; perhaps it had been unwise to 
boast about relationships. The old days, the old 
claims, might be nothing, now that Madame 
Diane in her beauty lay cold and dead. But he 
could not get a clear sight of the small wooden 
face behind the flickering of candles and flashing 
of diamonds. For the treasure of Montaigle 
still lay there, and almost distracted Jean*s 
mother from the question of his guilt or in- 
nocence. 

The suspense only lasted a moment or two. 
In dry, even tones the Marquis said, “ He cannot 
be either, Guillaume, being a gentleman and 
my kinsman. Therefore, if he denies it, I shall 
believe him.’' 


CHAPTER IX 


CONSPIRACY 

Jean denied it. Under his father’s threatening 
glance, seconded by his mother’s eyes, entreating, 
commanding, yet anxious — for, as she afterwards 
assured herself, nothing but the certainty that all 
Jean’s interests were at stake, and therefore that 
the end justified the means, could have made her 
consent to a direct lie — under all this strong 
influence Jean’s confidence rose and flourished. 

He had not been near the chapel, or even seen 
I’Oiselet, since the morning. He was ready to 
swear, if his cousin Montaigle pleased, but the 
Marquis cut him off very short, and the look he 
bestowed on his wounded kinsman was anything 
but kind. Jean retired quickly into insignifi- 
cance, and made a hideous grimace as he 
thought of the interview with his father which 
was sure to follow. 

Nobody troubled themselves to inquire any 
further as to who had knocked him down. His 
parents were too wise not to consider that sub- 
ject closed, at least for the present. Jean had to 
be contented with his own anticipations of fine 


138 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


revenges to be had in the future on everybody at 
Montaigle, and especially on the foresters. 

As for them, they were snubbed decidedly 
enough by the Marquis. He ordered them out 
of the room without any ceremony, as soon as 
Jean had spoken his denial. Old Guillaume 
tried to speak, but was speedily silenced by his 
master, who waved him to the door, and even 
old Guillaume was in wholesome awe of his 
seigneur. 

As soon as the clattering feet had descended 
the first short flight of stairs, he turned with his 
unchanged manner to Alexandre de Saint- 
Gervais. 

‘‘ You had something else to say to me ? ” 

The Comte now wore his pleasantest air, 
simple, friendly, cousinly. With many regrets 
they had decided on leaving Montaigle the 
next day, and had ordered their carriages to be 
ready about noon for the first stage on the 
journey to Paris. He himself hoped to visit his 
dear cousin again shortly, and to be of use to 
him in the autumn hunts. But at present several 
important affairs called him and his wife away. 
And the question was — had Mathieu decided 
to trust the Comtesse with his precious little 
daughter ? 

“ If you will be so far troubled ? said Mon- 
sieur de Montaigle, bowing to her. 

She smiled, triumphant. Really, the queer 
old creature was not without sense and discretion. 
She was ready and eager to lay before him all 


CONSPIRACY 


139 


her proposals for Renee's education, mainten- 
ance, management. After chattering for a few 
minutes, hardly sure that he was listening, she 
looked at Alexandre and said: ‘‘There is one 
favour we have to ask of you — I am sure my 
husband will agree with me — that my own 
women may wait upon the child. You understand 
— I could not have her mind poisoned against 
me and mine by that unfortunate Agathe." 

The Marquis bowed again. “ A very reason- 
able condition," he said. 

He assented in the same mechanical fashion 
to everything she suggested. As she went on 
talking he looked occasionally at the clock; 
then his heavy eyelids drooped again. Jean, 
impatient, shifted from one foot to the other, and 
wished he could forget the figure in the gallery. 
The Comte sat smiling and admiring his finger- 
nails. She, in her element, became happier 
every moment. The great object of her life 
seemed really almost gained ; and this when 
poor Jean had done his very best to ruin himself 
for ever. Even before knowing of his last 
escapade, she had agreed with her husband that 
nothing more should be said at present about a 
formal promise of betrothal. It might seem 
rather strange, rather heartless, to ask old 
Mathieu to go so very far against his dying 
wife’s wish. Really, as long as she defeated 
the Abbess of Fontevrault and carried off Renee 
in spite of her, she felt that at the moment she 
could ask no more. 


140 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


In the meanwhile it was surely permissible to 
admire the Montaigle diamonds. She truly told 
the Marquis that their dazzling beauty made it 
almost impossible to think of anything else. 

“Yes, they are fine,'' he said: but all his 
pleasure in them seemed to be gone, and it was 
without any air of interest that he let her and 
Saint-Gervais examine the jewels and answered 
their questions. 

“ What a responsibility ! " cried Madame de 
Saint-Gervais. 

“ Yes, madame, a great responsibility. These 
gems, the heirlooms of our house, have their 
influence on my life, and on the lives of others. 
In past times people have sinned for them, 
suffered for them, and all this will be repeated 
long after I am dead. My stewardship will not 
be long — God grant it honest ! " 

He spoke half dreamily, looking on the table. 
He did not seem to know how willingly these 
cousins would have relieved him from both 
stewardship and responsibility. 

When their false faces and greedy eyes had at 
last left him solitary, he set himself to packing 
away the treasure. When the cupboard was 
safely locked and the key hidden away, he called 
the valet who waited on the stairs, and sent him 
to fetch Agathe. 

She came hurrying in some alarm, for the 
foresters had found her by I’Oiselet's bed, and 
had given her some rough notion of what had 
passed. She also now realised how the exciting 


CONSPIRACY 


141 

events of the evening had made time slip away, 
so that she had for hours totally neglected her 
little lady. 

She found the library almost dark, for the fire 
was dying down, and the Marquis had snuffed 
out all the candles except one, which burned 
dimly. The shadows were like deep furrows on 
his worn face as he sat there. 

“ Come near, Agathe,'^ he said, and she ad- 
vanced into the small circle of light. 

He looked at her steadily, and she felt, like all 
his servants, how keen those sunken eyes were. 

‘‘ You had better marry that son of old Guil- 
laume's,’* he said. “ Joli-gars, they call him. I 
will give you one of my houses in the village.*’ 

This was almost too much for Agathe's self- 
possession. She blushed and stammered — “ But 
— a thousand thanks — but no, monsieur.’* 

Is he not tall enough for you ? Then choose 
one of the other brothers. I will arrange every- 
thing. You shall be rewarded for your long 
service of — of Madame de Montaigle. Your 
faithful service, Agathe.” 

He nodded kindly, with the ghost of a smile. 

‘‘Mon Dieu! Monsieur le Marquis is very 
good, but what would Mademoiselle Renee do 
without me ? I cannot leave her till she is much 
older, and I could hardly remain her waiting- 
maid and live in the village. Besides, I do not 
wish ** 

“ That is another thing I had to say. Prepare 
Mademoiselle Renee for a journey to-morrow. 


142 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


She starts for Paris at noon with Madame de 
Saint-Gervais in her coach. And the Comtesse 
has servants enough — she says she will not want 
you — and I myself hardly require a waiting- 
maid, Agathe, and so — I think Joli-gars will be 
better pleased than you seem to be. Chariot is 
his proper name, I believe. We will drop the 
foolish nickname when he is married.’' 

Agathe certainly was not pleased. She was 
scarlet and furious. She even stamped her foot 
slightly as she threw up her hands and cried : 
“ INIonsieur le Marquis will do such a thing ! " 

If the master of Montaigle was afraid of any- 
body or anything, it was of this woman. He 
admired and trusted her ; but he had never liked 
her influence with his wife, and he had always 
taken care to keep out of her tongue’s reach 
when she was angry. His only refuge was in 
any additional dignity he could call to his aid, 
and he now flew to it hastily from the more 
kindly region in which he had proposed Agathe’ s 
marriage. 

I want no more of this,” he said. “ Do you 
not suppose, woman, that I have thought over 
every argument, and made my decision as it 
seemed best for my family ? I cannot bring up 
the child here. I do not choose to send her to 
a convent. I take the most natural course. I 
entrust her to my cousins, her nearest relations 
on my own side. Say nothing : I will hear 
nothing. Your business is to obey my orders, 
not to preach me a sermon.” 


CONSPIRACY 


143 


‘‘ Ah/’voyons ! said Agathe to herself. “ 111 
wager he has had the sermon from Madame 
TAbbesse. Obstinate pig ! After all, she is his 
own child, and he must send her to the devil if 
he pleases, I suppose. Let us hope that dear 
saint may catch her on the way ! ” 

She curtseyed respectfully. “And the be- 
trothal to Monsieur Jean will take place as soon 
as Mademoiselle is old enough she said. 

“ The future will arrange itself,’' he answered, 
with a wave of the hand. 

“ Charming ! ” Agathe muttered. She went 
on aloud — “ Monsieur will be glad to hear that 
I’Oiselet has opened his eyes and spoken. 
Pierrot has bled him, and rubbed him with oils ; 
Madame TAbbesse and the reverend Mothers 
who were in the chapel have visited him, and 
have given him a reviving cordial.” 

“ Ah ! I am glad of it,” said the Marquis. 
Then more words, almost in spite of himself, 
forced themselves from his lips. “ What is the 
truth in all this romance, Agathe ? They tell me 
that you were the only person who saw the whole 
affair — that you saw a man running in the dark- 
ness, that you found a stick, which had been 
stolen, it seems, from Monsieur le Vicomte. Who 
can this man have been ? Surely no one in castle 
or village bore a grudge against that harmless 
boy.” 

Agathe hesitated a moment. “ Does Monsieur 
le Marquis wish me to tell him the truth, or does 
he prefer lies ? ” 


144 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


Her master moved uncomfortably in his chair. 

“ The whole truth,’’ he said shortly. 

And he heard it. 

. Agathe was not so cautious as old Father 
Guillaume, or she trusted the master more. She 
did not keep her lover’s name in the background, 
but told plainly the part that Joli-gars had taken. 
She believed that no publicity and no punish- 
ment would follow. For herself, she thoroughly 
enjoyed her story, and the despicable light in 
which, combined with his own lying denial, it 
made Monsieur Jean appear. 

“And the ladies of Fontevrault,” said the 
Marquis, after listening in deep, depressed silence 
to her tale. “ You say they came into the chapel. 
Did they know who it was ” 

“ They did not recognise him — it was dark — 
and they refused to believe what I told them.” 

“Very well. Enough, Agathe. Go, carry out 
my orders for to-morrow, and you will find it for 
your advantage to forget this story.” 

Then a slight misgiving troubled Agathe, see- 
ing the sternness in his face. 

“ I have put Joli-gars in monsieur’s hands,” 
she said. “ When he tripped the man up, he did 
not know ” 

“Joli-gars is safe with me.” 

“ Monsieur, one word 1 ” 

The pert, clever, high-spirited woman was 
kneeling at her master’s feet, had caught his 
thin hand and kissed it. 

“For God’s sake, for my lady’s sake, for 


CONSPIRACY 


145 

monsieur's own sake — now that he knows Mon- 
sieur Jean to be a cruel bullj', a coward, a liar 

“It does not matter what he is,” cried the 
Marquis impatiently. “ Ignorant— you do not 
understand— he is the only male hope of our 
house, the last of our name. Besides, Agathe, 
you foolish woman — I am giving the child in 
charge to his mother, not to him. And I cannot 
change now — when I promised, I did not know 
all this — but yet ” 

“Ignorant! None so ignorant as he who 
won't hear,” cried Agathe. 

Tears had been rolling down her face ; they 
seemed suddenly to dry up, and her dark eyes 
flashed with anger. 

“ Mon Dieu I this is a man ! ” she cried aloud. 
“ And little Renee's father I If she had not better 
friends than her father, she would be unlucky 
indeed.” 

Agathe sprang to her feet and fled. The 
Marquis cowered in his chair as if the woman 
had struck him, his face dark red, his hands 
trembling. Her rage and scorn cut him to the 
very soul. And of what use was it to be the 
seigneur of Montaigle, the successor of a line of 
feudal nobles, the dispenser, through his own 
paid magistrate, of high and low justice in all 
the country round, if his own people dared in- 
terfere in his affairs as old Guillaume and Agathe 
did? In these independent days they had no 
fear of punishment ; the castle dungeons gaped 
uselessly, and had no terror for them. Late into 
K 


146 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

the night their master sat alone, thinking, beat- 
ing down certain obstinate doubts, assuring him- 
self that he had no personal horror of Jean de 
Vassy, no distrust of his parents. And always, 
in spite of his dying wife, of her wise cousin, of 
his own faithful servants, he came back to the 
old refrain : My duty to my family, to my name — 
that must weigh heavier than a child’s, a girl’s, 
a woman’s happiness. If Renee is a true Mon- 
taigle, as I think, years will find her on her 
father’s side in this matter. Yes, the old middle- 
age proverb is worth all their modern sentiment 
— Fats ce que dot's, advienne que fourra ! 

Yet this good conscience was a terrible 
torment to its owner. 

Most of the servants in the great house were 
snoring by this time. But a very wakeful little 
conclave sat in I’Oiselet’s small chamber. Old 
Guillaume and his sons had not yet thought it 
necessary to go back to the forest, and they were 
free in this matter, for he possessed a key of one 
of the gates. L’Oiselet had the astonishing 
luxury of a room to himself, though not much 
larger than a cupboard. His mistress had put 
him there, at the foot of her own staircase, where 
he lay as a sort of watch-dog ; sometimes, when 
the fancy took him, creeping up to her door and 
sleeping on the bare bricks outside it. L’Oiselet’s 
musical instruments hung on his wall; he had a 
few books, and a bird that he had trained to 
whistle with him in tune. To this little cell 
Agathe flew back when she left her master, and 


CONSPIRACY 


147 


there she found TOiselet smiling and talking. 
He could not move without cruel pain, but his 
eyes were bright and his spirit brave as ever. 
Madame de Fontevrault's cordial had done 
wonders. It had set the active brain working ; 
and now, when Agathe brought the fatal news of 
what was to happen to-morrow, and the foresters 
stared blankly, sharing her despair, all their 
faces presently changed as they drew round 
rOiselet's bed and listened to him. After all, to 
their minds, it was the command of their dead 
mistress which had to be obeyed. They saw 
this with added clearness after the object-lesson 
that Monsieur Jean had given them that day. 
But they would have been wildly adrift as to 
means, Agathe included, without the cunning 
counsel of the little fellow who lay helpless there, 
Madame de Montaigle’s rooms had another 
approach besides this narrow staircase guarded 
by rOiselet. They opened on a wide, brick- 
paved corridor, with windows in deep recesses, 
which ran across the wing of the house from the 
great central staircase. It was in a room next to 
hers, empty and locked since she had been 
carried to the state bedroom she was to leave no 
more in life, that Agathe slept in charge of 
Mademoiselle Ren6e. It was here that she had 
left the boy and girl together that evening when 
she slipped downstairs for a little flirtation by 
way of refreshment after the funeral. But with 
all her trust in Monsieur Nico, she certainly had 
not meant to leave them for several hours. 


148 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Nico did not mind. It was better to be with 
Ren4e than anywhere else in the dreary house ; 
he was only too glad to spend his last evening 
with her. As dusk came on, which it did very 
quickly, he lighted the lamp on the table, and 
wondered why Agathe did not come. Then he 
settled down once more in the armchair with his 
little friend, and told her stories to make the 
time pass ; not nearly such clever and amusing 
stories as her other slave, the dwarf, knew how 
to tell ; but with Nico Ren6e was never critical. 
She liked Greek and Roman history, battles, 
sieges, single combats, the result of Nico's 
studies, told in a slow and unimaginative 
manner, better than the wildest legends of fairy- 
land. With the help of these stories, her bed- 
time being long passed, she presently went to 
sleep on Nico's shoulder. The small head, the 
delicate face with its dark bright colouring, 
rested comfortably on his soft velvet jacket. At 
first the boy sat in a rather cramped attitude, 
afraid to move lest he should wake Renee, 
wistfully watching the breaths that grew more 
even, the long black lashes still damp with the 
tears he had dried not long ago. Presently, as 
the night deepened, and Agathe still delayed 
her coming, he began himself to feel terribly 
sleepy. He slipped his arm more securely round 
the child, and leaned his head back against the 
hard corner of the chair. 

So both these young creatures slept ; and 
Nicolas d’Aumont, at least, had his dreams. He 


CONSPIRACY 


149 


never felt quite sure whether they were dreams 
or realities ; he was inclined in the end to 
suppose that the things might actually have 
happened ; in any case, he saw and heard them 
through a thick veil of sleep. 

Two nuns were standing in the room, quite 
close to him and Ren6e. One said — “But, 
Madame, shall I wake them ? 

“ No,'’ said the other — “ I think that my cousin 
Diane would have left them sleeping. I only 
desired to see that the poor child was safe so 
far. “Ah, ma m^re, que c'est joli!” with a 
sigh. 

And Nico knew that it was the Abbess of 
Fontevrault who was stooping over him and 
Ren6e ; and though his eyelids were too heavy 
to lift, he knew that her fingers almost touched 
his hair and brow. 

“ She is making the sign of the cross," he 
thought, and he knew no more. 

He was very tired and weary after the painful 
excitement of the day, and slept more heavily 
than usual. His next dream was of a presence 
of evil in the room. It took the form of the 
Comtesse de Saint-Gervais, who had always 
disliked him, and from whose occasional kind- 
ness, as from that of her husband, he had shrunk 
instinctively. 

“ This is a pretty sight," said she — the Abbess’s 
saying, but how different ! “ Indeed, it is time 
the young lady was taken away to be educated. 
I always thought this boy was encouraged far 


150 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


too much. Go away ; I will watch them till that 
woman returns. No, I am not afraid.’* 

When Nico next became conscious of anything, 
it was of a quick clatter of sharp tongues at the 
door. Was that Agathe at last, and what was 
she saying r “ My master’s orders ” — “ I shall 
keep her till I am forced to give her up” — 
‘‘ True, but Madame la Comtesse knows very 
well that I have been nursing that poor un- 
fortunate boy who — ” “ Ah ! she’s gone ! odious 

cat ! Witch — viper — she-devil ! ” 

Having thus relieved her feelings Agathe 
bustled across the room and tapped Monsieur 
Nico on the shoulder. 

‘‘ Hush, hush, take care ! You will wake 
Ren^e,” said the boy sleepily. “ She has been 
sleeping so well.” 

“ And you too — like a couple of cherubs on a 
tomb.” Agathe laughed, then hastily crossed 
herself. 

“ Was anybody here ? ” 

“ Nobody that matters. Why — did you hear 
anything ? ” 

I think I was dreaming.” 

‘‘ Most likely you were. But now wake up, 
and go off to your own room. Remember you 
have to start early to-morrow. There will be 
mass in the chapel at five. Good-night, Mon- 
sieur Nico.” 

“ Where is I’Oiselet ? I want to see him. I 
want to give him my cap with the pheasant 
plume.” 


CONSPIRACY 


151 

“ He is in bed — asleep. To-morrow morning/* 
said Agathe hastily ; she was eager to get rid 
of him. 

“Agathe/* said the boy lingering, with his 
eyes on his little friend, who still lay sleeping in 
the chair though her pillow now was a hard 
cushion — “will my guardian send her away? 
Will he send her to Fontevrault ? ** 

“Heaven knows. People build fine castles, 
but heaven steps in sometimes and just gives 
the cards a touch and knocks them over, and 
those are not always the most powerful who 
think themselves so. Come, Monsieur Nico, it 
is very late, and you are asleep already.** 

Nico stooped over the child for a moment, 
then bent on one knee and kissed one of the 
tiny slender hands. The large dark eyes opened 
slowly, and Ren6e said, “ My Nico ! ** then she 
fell asleep again. 

“ Oui, ton Nico — toujours, toujours ! ** he whis- 
pered very low. 


CHAPTER X 


madame’s ghost 

There were those in the Montaigle household 
who did not sleep well that night : some indeed 
found it the most alarming night of their lives : 
but they had not, like Gobert the fat major- 
domo, had more than their share of the wine- 
casks set flowing after the funeral. The wild 
wind blew no longer ; the moonless hours were 
silent, black and heavy. It appeared that the 
Marquise could not rest in her grave, for several 
persons bore witness to having seen her wan- 
dering ghost in the earlier hours of the night. 
Who could wonder ? — not those in whose ears 
her dying words still echoed. 

More than one of the servants saw a tall white 
figure going swiftly along a corridor : its veiled 
head had looked out from a window into the 
night : a groom crossing the courtyard saw it, 
and declared that the pale light which glim- 
mered about it could only belong to the grave. 
There was nothing to be done but to run trem- 
bling to one’s bed, fasten the door, and smother 
one’s eyes and ears in blankets. 

The most distinguished of these terrified per- 


MADAME^S GHOST 


153 


sons was Madame de Saint-Gervais. As she 
went back from Rente's room to her own — she 
had sent her maid away, and was alone — a 
slight noise behind her made her look round as 
she crossed the grand staircase. There, in a 
recess, as if rising suddenly out of a wall, she 
saw something tall and white that moved, with 
long clinging garments. The dim light she 
carried was not enough to show her the face, 
and indeed this seemed to be shrouded in white 
wrappings of some sort. 

The Comtesse, being a pious person and not 
sceptical, had no doubt at all of what it was she 
saw. She did not stop to look again, but hurried 
to her room with trembling limbs that would 
hardly carry her. 

Jean shuddered when his mother told her 
tale, and would have poured out his own ex- 
periences but for dread of his father, who had 
scolded him almost beyond bearing for the heroic 
deed of that day. Saint-Gervais now laughed 
at his wife’s terror, and scowled angrily when she 
murmured that she almost feared to take the child 
in defiance of her dead mother. To reassure her, 
however, he went out with a pistol into the pas- 
sages, and came back more scornful than ever, 
having of course seen nothing. 

No fears for the future, no ghosts, no dreams 
now, troubled the healthy sleep of young Nico- 
las d’Aumont. It was still quite dark when he 
awoke, but the village cocks had long been 
crowing and the dogs barking, while lights were 


154 the heiress of the forest 


moving about the courtyards. Madame de 
Fontevrault's grooms and 'outriders were early 
astir. Already the wakeful and frightened ser- 
vants were standing in groups, and the stories 
of the night were growing in spite of the scepti- 
cal steward, who put down the appearances 
without any doubt to the accoilint of those wine- 
casks. Peasants had come gaping up from the 
village, which could boast of its visions too. This 
man or that, on his way home from the cabaret 
— there again ! — ^had seen Madame la Marquise 
near the churchyard. For a moment only, tall, 
swathed in white : then she had passed into the 
shadow: but Colin or Gros-Guillot was ready 
to swear that it was Madame : and more, that 
she was carrying a child in her arms. However, 
most of the reasonable inhabitants, who had 
slept soundly in their beds, were inclined to dis- 
believe this part of the story, being convinced 
that Mademoiselle Renee was safe in her own 
room in the castle, under the faithful care of 
Agathe. And Father Guillaume, passing through 
the village before dawn, and hearing these won- 
derful tales, had laughed aloud. 

‘‘ Impossible, neighbours, and would it were 
not so,'* he said. “ Not even his dead wife can 
prevail with Monsieur. He will send the child 
to Paris with his cousins, and who shall say him 
nay ? " 

He went on his way into the darkness of the 
forest, swinging his horn lantern, chuckling 
strangely under his beard. 


MADAME’S GHOST 


55 


The chapel bell had not yet begun to ring for 
mass when Nicolas ran down from his own 
room. He went straight to the dwarf’s little 
cell under the stairs, expecting to find him stir- 
ring. The door stood ajar, a light streamed out 
from it, and TOiselet’s voice could be heard sing- 
ing. It was weaker than usual, and quavered a 
little : there was almost a sob in its pathetic 
music. The words as usual were his own : wild 
and simple, with more meaning for himself than 
for anybody else : the slow, vague, swinging tune 
was his own. 

Oil sont tes ailes, 

Dis, rOiselet ! 

V’la qui s’envole 
D’sus bois et bles ! 

Helas, par terre, 

Pauvre blesse ! 

Ob sont les ailes 
De rOiselet ? 

Nico listened for a moment, almost awed, 
standing at the door. Somehow the little song 
sounded like a dirge for the lady who was gone, 
who had cared so much for her dwarf page’s 
fanciful singing. Then he pushed the door 
open. 

There lay TOiselet on his low pallet bed, a 
lamp burning beside him. His small white face 
looked pinched and withered, his great blue eyes 
hollow, with dark shadows under them. His 
thin arms, one bandaged, lay out on the coverlet. 

“What, lazybones — ” Nico was beginning, but 
stopped short. “ Are you coming to mass, I'Oise- 
let ? I shall be off afterwards, you know. Do 


156 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


you see — Til give you this cap of mine. But 
what is the matter. Are you going to die ? '' 

“ I’m afraid not, Monsieur Nico,*’ said the other 
boy. “ Thank you for the cap. I have always 
liked that soft brown velvet and the pheasant 
plume. It would be nice to be a pheasant, only 
they can’t fly very far, I believe. 

Ou sont tes ailes, 

Dis, rOiselet ! 

Just what I wished for. Put it on my head. 
Monsieur Nico : the bruises there are not so 
bad. I can’t use my arm, you see. Ah ! now 
show me the looking-glass yonder. Voyons! I 
am quite a handsome fellow. I will wear it 
when the mourning is over, and thank you ! ” 
Nico stood over the bed with a long and 
puzzled face, balancing in his hand the little 
mirror which Ren6e had bought from a pedlar 
and given as a New Year’s gift to her devoted 
rOiselet. The other boy, lying there, looked 
up and smiled : the young gentleman evidently 
amused him. 

“ I see nothing to laugh at,” Nico burst out, 
“for there you lie as if all your bones were 
broken. What in the name of heaven has hap- 
pened to you ? ” 

“ Oh, you have not heard ? ” 

“ What should I have heard ? ” 

“ Monsieur Nico, there is a fine old proverb, 
a favourite with some gentlemen, and especially 
with a certain Vicomte — 

Oignes vilain, il vous point ; 

Poignes vilain, il vous oint. 


MADAME’S GHOST 


157 


However, I don’t think Monsieur le Vicomte will 
find it very true in my case, vilain though I 
may be.” 

Nico stood frowning ; he was still puzzled. 

“The Vicomte has done this? But what — 
what has he done — and when ? ” 

“ He beat me last night within an inch of my 
life. I rather wish that one of the blows my ribs 
got had fallen on my skull. This is not an easy 
world for the helpless. Monsieur Nico.” 

Nicolas felt himself growing hot with rage, as 
rOiselet gave him a picturesque version of all 
that had passed. At first he was sure that the 
Marquis had only to know of this piece of 
brutality to make Jean sorry that he had ever 
committed it. But I’Oiselet did not leave him 
with that delusion. 

“ At least he will not send Renee away with 
them ! ” he cried in a new horror. 

Some mysterious light seemed to dawn in the 
depths of rOiselet’s eyes, fixed in a full gaze on 
the young soldier. 

“Oh no! The good God will see to that. 
Monsieur Nico.” 

The chapel bell began to ring as Nicolas stood 
thinking. 

“ Time to go,” said the crippled lad, and the 
exalted look died from his face into weary wist- 
fulness : he made a slight movement, and hardly 
kept back a cry of pain. “ Adieu I ” he said. 
“Be a general, a marshal of France, a brave 
hero, winning battles for the King — and I wish I 


158 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


could ride in your company. You and I, Mon- 
sieur Nice — your good heart and straight back, 
and my queer ways and cunning brain — we 
would let the world hear of us. Mademoiselle 
Ren^e should be proud of her two servants. But 
you see, you must do all the work and gain all 
the credit alone. Go — go, and come back to her 
a splendid soldier, and then old Montaigle shall 
see good days/* 

His smiling courage had once more conquered 
the pain. Nicolas d’Aumont, boy as he was, 
blushed dark red as the privileged tongue chat- 
tered thus. 

“ You are talking madness, my poor TOiselet,** 
he said hastily. “ Adieu ! ** 

At that early mass the dark little chapel was 
nearly full. The Abbess and her nuns were 
there, the Marquis de Montaigle, and a number 
of servants and retainers. Some of the peasant 
singers from the village had come with their 
Cure to help the chaplain of Fontevrault, and 
after the visions of that night it showed courage 
on their part to venture up to the chapel at all. 
Monsieur and Madame de Saint-Gervais were 
not there, nor was their son ; and it seemed that 
Agathe prudently thought five o’clock too early 
for her young mistress. The Cur6 would say 
mass later, when all those absent now would 
attend. 

It was cold, clear daylight, though the sun had 
not yet risen, when the service was over. There 
was a bustle of servants running hither and 


MADAME^S GHOST 


159 


thither, a hurried early breakfast. Madame de 
Fontevrault’s great coach came rumbling up into 
the inner courtyard; she, very grave and sad, 
walked up and down the great hall exchanging 
last words with Monsieur de Montaigle. Her 
visit was over, and fruitless. Diane’s dying com- 
mand was to be disobeyed, and her child’s life 
was to be given into the worst hands in the 
world, as it honestly seemed to her cousin. Ga- 
brielle de Mortemart, very much unaccustomed 
to be thwarted, was angry, mortified and grieved 
to the soul. The Mere de la Mothaye’s loving 
study of her Superior had never found her so 
irritable, so deeply displeased; but yet it was 
only the M^re de la Mothaye who saw so far. 
To Monsieur de Montaigle the beautiful Abbess 
appeared that morning as a very incarnation of 
stately and sweet reasonableness. He had dis- 
appointed her, but she was above showing the 
slightest resentment. His conscience, supremely 
uncomfortable, his aching head after a sleepless 
night — all was soothed by gentle, understanding 
words, by the almost caressing softness of beau- 
tiful dark eyes. It was absolutely with eager- 
ness that the Marquis granted a comparatively 
small request which the Abbess made to him, 
delaying her departure for that purpose. As he 
went out to give orders on the subject, he caught 
himself wishing that there had never been any 
question of sending Renee away to Versailles. 
He also caught himself unwillingly contrasting, 
as his wife had sometimes done, the brutal 


i6o THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


clumsiness of Jean de Vassy with the graceful, 
straightforward, gentlemanlike air of Nicolas 
d^Aumont, on whom he had bestowed a few dry 
words of farewell and advice immediately the 
mass was over. Ah, but why had his own sons 
died ? — there indeed was the beginning of 
troubles. 

As the little master went down into the court- 
yard, he was aware that the servants, Madame 
de Fontevrault^s as well as his own, were talk- 
ing and staring, and that all who could were 
hurrying away in the direction of the stable- 
yard, from which a sudden clamour arose. His 
steward Baudouin, a prim, sleek-haired per- 
sonage, came hastily to meet him. 

“ What is it now ? said the Marquis im- 
patiently. 

“The young gentlemen are fighting, monsieur. 
As to Monsieur le Chevalier, the devil seems to 
be in him. He attacked Monsieur le Vicomte as 
if he were the same age and size as himself.'* 

“ Little fool ! ** growled the Marquis. “ I 
advise you to see to it, Baudouin. I am tired of 
all this brawling about the chateau, and I will 
make somebody responsible for it. Am I never 
to be left in peace ? Who began this ? ** 

“As far as I could judge, it was Monsieur 
d'Aumont. I saw him fly upon the Vicomte 
with his sword drawn.** 

“ Peste ! ** And the Marquis walked off to the 
scene of battle, Baudouin, the soul of prudence, 
following cautiously behind. 


MADAME'S GHOST 


i6i 


He did not care for young D'Aumont, who 
seemed to him a penniless interloper, whereas 
Monsieur de Vassy was the power of the future. 
But he kept a quiet tongue in his head, and was 
careful not to make enemies more than neces- 
sary, and to use his powers as bailiff and steward 
with moderation. 

‘‘ Baudouin ! The Marquis turned round 
suddenly. 

“ Monsieur ! 

“ I have given the boy, I’Oiselet, to Madame 
TAbbesse de Fontevrault. She will take him 
away in her own coach. See that he is carefully 
lifted. He has had a beating.*' 

‘‘Yes, Monsieur.*' 

Baudouin made the Marquis his model in 
shortness of speech. He knew better than to 
discuss orders. This was a much better fate than 
the little mountebank deserved. As to the beat- 
ing, everybody knew or guessed the truth about 
that, and Baudouin wisely thought it no business 
of his if the Vicomte was rather revengeful and 
rather heavy-handed. 

He could not resist following his master a 
little further, to see the end of the fray. Swords 
were clashing sharply, and Monsieur Jean, man 
as he was, had not at present the best of it, for 
Nicolas, with far more agility, had learnt to 
fence well. 

He had gone into the stable-yard to see that 
his horses were ready, and found Jean there as 
usual, swaggering among the grooms. Some of 
L 


162 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


them encouraged him by laughing at his coarse 
jokes, and among these was a man of Madame 
de Fontevrault’s, the brother-in-law of the porter 
Giraud whom Grand-Gui had knocked over. 
Jean had already had confidential communica- 
tions with this man, who thought him a fine 
young gentleman, and was ready to flatter him 
as the future master of Montaigle. Jean had 
promised him a place as head-groom, and the 
fellow was quite sure that this would be much 
better than serving an Abbess, great and dig- 
nified as she might be. 

The Vicomte de Vassy was in high spirits that 
morning. His fears had fled with the darkness, 
and he was ready to jeer at those of others. All 
was going well for him ; by the evening, Mont- 
aigle and its mysteries would be left far behind, 
the little heiress would be carried off safely, and 
all his future possessions — diamonds, castles, 
lands, titles, would be assured to him almost cer- 
tainly. But he had a crow to pluck with Master 
Nicolas, and a parting lesson to give him. 

“ Hol^, chevalier, off to the w'ars ! he called 
out, striding a few paces to meet the boy as he 
came down. ‘‘ Have you said good-bye for ever 
to Ren6e ? You will never see her again, you 
know.’* 

Nico gave him a glance of disgust, and walked 
on without answering. But Jean had not done 
with him ; he followed him towards the stables, 
while the grooms stood grinning. 

‘‘ I shall take precious care that you never see 


MADAMFS GHOST 


63 


her again. You are far too handsome, monsieur. 
If you try to come near her, I shall have to spoil 
that pretty face of yours.*' 

Still Nico walked on a few steps, turning from 
red to white, while Jean's insults and jokes pur- 
sued him. 

‘‘ See what airs the pretty boy gives himself. 
You would think he was of the blood royal, 

while the fact is that nobody knows " 

“Liar and coward!" Nicolas turned round 
suddenly and faced him, then in an instant 
pulled olf his glove and struck him lightly 
across the mouth with it. “ You talk of a lady 
in the stable-yard, you beat a cripple," he said. 
“ Defend yourself I " and drawing his sword he 
flew upon Jean furiously. 

“ Young gentlemen ! In the name of the law ! 
Remember that duelling is forbidden," cried the 
steward, hurrying up; but as neither of them 
listened to a word he said, and he did not care 
to interfere personally between two flashing 
rapiers, he prudently ran off to fetch his master. 

The Marquis, walking quickly, with a very 
stern face, came under the archway into the 
stable court. The grooms were standing round, 
staring in breathless interest ; the two youths 
were fighting furiously. Jean had already a 
slight wound in the arm which made him howl, 
and a few drops of blood had fallen on the 
stones. Nicolas, as white as death, his blue 
eyes blazing, seemed in his quick passes to 
have no object short of killing his adversary, 


1 64 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


and Jean’s clumsiness of make and movement 
was much against him. 

“ Stop ! ” the Marquis thundered, and his 
light walking-stick struck the two swords into 
the air. ‘‘ Do you wish to spend a few days in 
my prison, both of you ? ” 

They stood panting and glaring at each other. 
“ Ah, let us fight, monsieur ! ” muttered 
Nicolas. 

“Monsieur, he began it,” cried Jean. “He 
attacked me — I had hardly time to draw my 
sword — he wounded me — — ” 

The Marquis’s keen eyes glanced from one to 
the other, and there was a curious expression of 
disgust as he looked at Jean. 

“ Pooh ! a pin-scratch. Go to your mother,” 
he said, and turned his back upon him ; then 
took young D’Aumont by the arm and led him 
away. 

Jean swore and raged ; then became suddenly 
conscious that some of the by-standers were 
smiling. Their faces became grave very quickly 
as he scowled upon them. 

“Ah, you can all insult me now,” he said. 
“ But my day will come, and I shall remember 
my friends. Even you, Baudouin ; why are you 
skulking off in such haste ? ” 

“ An order from Monsieur le Marquis. May 
I venture — I hope Monsieur le Vicomte is not 

seriously hurt— -these boyish quarrels ” 

“ Hurt — no — but you all saw it was no doing 
of mine. That D’Aumont flew upon me like a 


MADAMFS GHOST 


165 

wild cat. Ah ! one of these days we must fight 
it out — he has always been insolent to me, and 
has a firebrand of a temper that will not bear 
the smallest joke. I must have this stupid cut 
bound up. I verily believe the little scamp would 
have liked to kill me.'" 

He lounged away. Baudouin shook his head 
as he looked round at the grooms. 

‘‘ "Tis all very fine, fellows : Monsieur Jean 
will be seigneur of Montaigle one of these days," 
he said, “ and the othear boy will be nobody." 

“ So much the worse," one or two of the men 
were ready to murmur. 

The Marquis made Nicolas mount his horse, 
and walked a few yards beside him through the 
gateway, Jacquot the groom following. He re- 
proved the boy sharply for drawing his sword on 
Jean de Vassy. Why had he done it ? Nicolas, 
still trembling with rage and excitement, could 
give no answer, but stared at his horse's ears. 

“ Had you no reason?" his guardian persisted. 

Nicolas had had many ; he burst out with one 
of them. 

“Why did Jean dare to say that I should 
never see Renee again ? " 

The Marquis hesitated and frowned ; but he 
answered not unkindly : 

“ He was wrong to say it. But that is a sub- 
ject on which I will have no quarrelling. If Jean 
has little at present to do with it, you have 
still less ; you have nothing. Remember that, 
Nicolas." 


1 66 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


‘‘Monsieur — pardon — I have always been 
Rente's brother/' the boy cried out, bitterly 
hurt by the cold words. 

“ That is childishness, and must be forgotten. 
Be a man, and give your thoughts to your noble 
profession of arms.” 

“But, Monsieur, Renee will be here, or at 
Fontevrault ? I shall see her again ? ” 

“ I do not know. Attend to your own affairs, 
and ask no more questions. Away with you, 
young man.” 

And Nicolas could only take off his hat in 
answer to his guardian's parting salute, before 
the Marquis had turned his back and walked 
away. The horses clattered on down the slope. 
Nice did not look back: he might have been 
glad to know, having a sort of affection for the 
only father he knew, that the Marquis turned 
round presently and stood in the shade of the 
archway to watch him riding away straight and 
swift in the golden dawn. 

There went the first of the three young crea- 
tures who had helped Diane de Montaigle to 
bear her life. The Abbess of Fontevrault would 
take the second ; the Saint-Gervais cousins the 
third, and she the chief jewel among all the 
treasures of his house. Though he might repent 
in his heart, he did not change his intention, and 
certainly he did not imagine that any power of 
man or spirit would come between him and its 
fulfilment. And no one had yet dared to tell 
him of the strange appearances of the night. 


MADAME’S GHOST 


167 

Neither had Nicolas yet heard anything of 
them. Jacquot the groom, who rode silently 
after him, proposed to himself to regale the boy 
with horrors on their way, but not till they had 
passed the forest, a dangerous ground for such 
stories. And his young master had enough to 
make him hold his tongue sadly, as he rode 
through the village street. He had been thrown 
out roughly into an unknown world. All he 
cared for, it seemed, was henceforth to be nothing 
to him ; and the unconquerable joy of young life 
and merry adventure had not yet asserted its 
splendid claim. 

The village was cheerful in the dawn ; cocks 
were crowing, and the early peasants were astir : 
going to their work, they stared with sleepy 
curiosity after the little chevalier as he passed 
them, his gay accoutrements flashing in the 
morning light, his horse^s feet clanking on the 
stones. Nicolas touched his hat many a time, 
but stopped to speak to no one till a long and 
skinny man dressed in black came out from a 
house opposite the church on his way to ring the 
Angelus. He had taught Nicolas to read and 
write, and to spell through a little Latin. 

“ Adieu, maitre ! cried the boy. “ I am off 
to Angers.” 

“ Ah ! good luck go with you : don’t forget 
your lessons,” said the schoolmaster. 

“ No more of them ! ” said Nico with a laugh. ' 

He was passing on, but the old man signed to 
him to stop, and he pulled in his horse rather 


1 68 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


impatiently. This was the greatest gossip in 
the world, and he had never felt less inclined for 
talking. Besides, there was no time for delay. 

But the schoolmaster certainly looked very 
curious : he was much paler than usual, and his 
thin hair seemed to bristle under his black cap. 

“ May I ask a question, Monsieur Nico ? Is 
the little lady safe ? 

“ Safe ? Yes : what do you mean ? I saw her 
last night, well and asleep,'* said Nicolas hastily, 
while Jacquot pressed forward open-mouthed to 
hear. 

‘‘ Ah ! These fools will fancy anything. But 
certainly a phantom was seen in the village, not 
long after midnight. Several persons bear wit- 
ness to that — 'tis not only Gros-Guillot, poor 
wretch, stumbling home from the cabaret as 
usual. Monsieur le Cur6 and I know him too 
well, do you see, to believe a word he says. 
But other people saw it, sober men and women 
who happened to look out by chance. They say 
it was tall, clothed in white draperies, bearing a 
child in its arms. It was hastening away to the 
forest. Now, Monsieur Nico, nobody would dare 
to say that the dying words of Madame la Mar- 
quise go for nothing, and I hear she was seen 
last night walking about the chateau. It is a 
difficulty, of course, that a spirit should carry a 
living child — but the older I grow. Monsieur 
Nico, the more convinced am I that we live in a 
world of impenetrable mysteries. They tell me 
that the Saint-Gervais family are to take away 


MADAME^S GHOST 169 

the child to Paris with them this very day — in 
that case, what wonder if her mother 

Nicolas shuddered, and became angry sud- 
denly. “ Oh, Maitre Pimbaux, it is a string of 
old wives’ tales ! ” he cried out. “As to Paris ” — 
he remembered TOiselet with real consolation — 
“ the good God will see to that. In the mean- 
while, I tell you. Mademoiselle is safe with 
Agathe at the chateau. And I hate these mys- 
teries of yours, and I don’t believe in them.” 

“ Ah ! well, go on your way,” said the school- 
master. “ Old wives’ tales — very well ! ” 

His lank, stooping figure passed on across the 
road. The boy set spurs to his horse and gal- 
loped through the village, Jacquot clattering 
behind him. As they plunged into the silence 
and deep shadow of the forest, Nicolas shivered 
in spite of himself — “ a spirit passed before his 
eyes, and the hair of his flesh stood up.” Little 
Ren 4 e, childish, warm and sweet — there seemed 
to be no right connection between her and the 
most motherly of cold white ghosts. 

“ That Pimbaux is an old fool,” he told him- 
self. “ I wish I had gone to her door this morn- 
ing. But I have to remember that it is not my 
business — and yet I will never forget thee, dear 
little love, and I will see thee again in spite of 
Jean de Vassy. Get on, good horse ! What 
magnificent birds ! I wish I could shoot them !” 
— as a brace of pheasants, disturbed from their 
night’s rest on an oak branch above his head, 
scuffled off into deeper shades of woodland. 


CHAPTER XI 


thieves’ corner 

The Marquis de Montaigle’s new road, along 
which Nicolas and his groom travelled, led 
through the most romantic depths of the wild 
and vast forest. But the young soldier found 
nothing terrible in its silence and loneliness. 
No wolves, beast or human, no poachers or high- 
waymen, crossed his path ; no ghostly hunt came 
whirling down any of the green mysterious drives 
that opened on the main road, deserted as they. 
He did not give a thought to any possible 
dangers, leaving all that to Jacquot, who rode 
with pistols ready. Though Nicolas was not 
much given to fairy-tales, he had heard plenty of 
them from I’OiSelet, and that morning he could 
have fancied that these avenues led to the Fairy 
Queen’s own palace. She and her court might 
well come dancing down the emerald floor. 

In truth, in the misty shining glory of that 
autumn dawn, the whole forest was like some 
palace with jewelled pillars and roofs of gold. 
High above the soft mossy ground the stately 
beeches rose flaming to the sky. Red and 
bronzed leaves trembled in the breath of the 


THIEVES* CORNER 


171 

morning, and the sunbeams danced through 
their gorgeous array. White mists, like long 
processions, were flying down the slopes of the 
wood to their refuge in low reedy places, leaving 
crimson briars and golden bracken sparkling 
with diamonds of dew. 

As Nicolas left Montaigle farther behind him, 
the world seemed to expand, and with the 
new day a new life was opening for him. The 
gloom of the past weeks, unnatural to his age, 
began to pass away with the shadows of the old 
towers. Ghost stories began to seem absurd, 
like dreams ; hope, and faith in the future, so 
much more easy than despair at fifteen, took 
possession of his mind. He heartily pro- 
mised himself that one of these days, with 
strength and opportunity, he would show Jean 
de Vassy which was the better man of the two, 
and would pay him off for swaggering insults to 
himself and brutality to helpless TOiselet. Mean- 
while, his new horse danced under him in the 
fresh woodland air ; his new sword had behaved 
well in its first trial that morning. 

The worst bit of the road was near the south- 
west boundary of the forest ; not far beyond this 
it joined the road to Angers, which was fairly 
straight, while that to Saumur and Fontevrault 
struck off sharply to the left. At this difficult 
point the woodland country rose rather suddenly 
from a tract of low marshy ground with thickets 
of rushes, and old many-stemmed thorns now 
red with berries. A waste of brown bracken 


172 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


spread away from the road, deep in ruts, which 
climbed down from the forest itself, to cross 
these lowlands. The road had been cut slant- 
wise down the side of the hill, and even before 
leaving the forest it was very steep, rough and 
stony. In older times it had often been im- 
passable, and was so now in the worst weather. 
Bad characters and people of the road had been 
wont to lurk about the foot of the hill, watching 
for travellers in difficulty. The place was called 
the Coin des Larrons, and even now bore a doubt- 
ful reputation. Jacquot’s pistols were readier 
than ever, and his eyes glanced nervously from 
side to side as he followed his young master. 

But to-day one would have said there was no 
living creature within a mile, except the squirrels 
that raced up into the fir-trees. All the country 
beyond the wood lay at their feet, lonely and still 
in the autumn sunshine; there was hardly a 
sound except the plunging and sliding of the 
horses in a torrent of loose stones. 

‘‘ One would say all the thieves in France had 
had the making of this road ! ” cried the young 
chevalier. 

As he spoke his horse shied so violently that 
he nearly lost his seat. 

“ What is that ? he exclaimed, recovering 
himself. “ Jacquot, Jacquot, here ! 

“Oh, monsieur, it's nothing," cried honest 
Jacquot, his teeth beginning to chatter. “Ride 
on in heaven's name, this is not a place to 
stop ! " 


THIEVES* CORNER 


173 


But Nico had already jumped to the ground, 
and he had to push on and catch at the bridle ; 
the horse stood quietly enough now. 

They were at a sharp turn in the hill, where a 
group of tall beeches almost overhung the road. 
Among their mossy roots, quite visible from the 
road, something white was lying, partly wrapped 
in a great crimson cloak. It was not on a level 
with the road, and Nico, before reaching it, had 
to swing himself up a few yards of bank through 
which lower roots made a strong tracery. 

Jacquot vociferated in vain. 

“Monsieur Nico — it is no concern of ours. 
Some trick of thieves or of the Evil One ** — he 
crossed himself, and swore softly under his 
breath. “ Monsieur Nico, what, is it ? What has 
he got there, au nom de 

Nico turned his head; he was white to the lips. 

“ Hold your tongue, fool,** he said. “ It is 
Mademoiselle Renee.** 

“ Oh, no, no ! ** Jacquot trembled mightily. 
“ It is some phantom,** he muttered. “ Holy 
Mary and all the blessed saints preserve us, for 
this must be the work of the devil 1 But let me 

see ** He loosened a pistol and edged the 

horses gradually near the side of the road. 

“ Stay where you are,** cried Nicolas sternly. 

He knelt beside Ren6e in utter bewilderment. 
It was herself, alive, sleeping, in the midst of 
tumbled curls and crimson wrappings. It was 
the same child to whom he had said good-bye 
last night, in the safety of her own room. The 


174 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


stories of the peasants were true then, it seemed : 
for what but supernatural power could have 
carried her all these miles across the forest ? 
Her mother’s doing, surely: and he had laughed 
at tales of that passing phantom, which after all 
must have been real. Yet, even as the boy 
gazed and wondered, his brain was struggling 
to find some reasonable explanation. He had 
no turn for mystery, and hated it ; except as 
concerned with those great truths which he 
believed without question. But they were on a 
different plane. 

Ren4e woke when Nicolas touched her, open- 
ing sleepy eyes as bewildered as his own. 

“ Nico ! Where am I ? ” she said, and held out 
her arms. 

He kissed her without answering, and stroked 
back her hair. She was cold, and shivered 
suddenly. He drew the cloak round her, and 
rubbed her hands between his own. 

But where am I ? ” the child repeated. “ How 
did I come here ? 

‘‘ You are out in the forest, dear little one, but 
how you came here — I wish I knew ! Can you 
remember anything about it ? What is the last 
thing you remember ? ” 

“I don’t know. Let me look — is that your 
new horse r Do put me on his back. I should 
like a ride of all things. But how did you find 
me— where is Agathe ? How did I come here, 
Nico ? ” 

“God knows! I don’t,” the boy answered, 


THIEVES’ CORNER 


175 


staring at her with such a completely puzzled 
air that she began to laugh. 

“It’s nice out here, like fairyland. It’s like 
one of rOiselet’s stories — but I didn’t think they 
were true. Now, Nico, you can put me on your 
horse and carry me off into the world, and we 
shall be a prince and princess, and have adven- 
tures, and if we come to any wicked people, you 
will fight for me, won’t you ? ” 

“Yes, that I will. But Ren^e, Renee, who 
brought you out of the chateau ? Seriously, what 
are we to do ? Must I take you back there ? ” 
Nico frowned distractedly, with two fingers 
pressed on his forehead. His brain refused to 
work in presence of such a problem. 

“ Take me back ? No, indeed you shall not,” 
Mademoiselle Ren^e at once decided, and she 
now looked brilliantly happy, even mischievous, 
sitting up among her wrappings. “No, my 
little Nico, if they have lost me, they may find 
me. It is a pretty game of hide-and-seek. How 
I shall laugh at Agathe when I see her again ! ” 

“ But Monsieur your father ” Nico tried 

to argue, but she laughed and put her hand over 
his mouth. 

“ He doesn’t love me,” she said. “ Nor 
Monsieur le Comte, nor Madame la Comtesse, 
nor that horrid Jean. I have only you in the 
world — I am your little sister — she said so, 
Nico — I understood, and I remember, though I 
am a little girl. So, you see, you are going 
away, and you must take me with you, dear ” 


176 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


She laughed in his face, for never did chosen 
knight look more puzzled or more distressed. 
He kissed the little hand, but did not move ; and 
meanwhile Jacquot had something to do in 
keeping the two horses quiet in the road. He 
was completely mystified, and just too far off to 
hear what the young creatures said to each other 
among the beech-boles. 

“ Ah, mon Dieu ! sighed Nicolas. “ And you 
remember nothing of last night or this morning, 
Ren6e ? You cannot tell at all who brought you 
here ? When I left you last night, Agathe was 
there, and you were asleep in your own room.’’ 

“Oh, yes, I know. She woke me after you 
went away, and made me drink hot milk with a 
sweet taste in it. I liked it — and then I suppose 
I went to sleep again. Since then, I know 
nothing.” 

“ A sweet taste ! ” the boy repeated dreamily. 

“ Yes, sweet and funny. I wish I could have 
some now, Nico ; I’m hungry.” 

“Hungry! and I have nothing,” Nico ex- 
claimed in despair. “ Come, dear, I see some 
briars over there ; let us gather some black- 
berries. They will be better than nothing, and 
then we must think. If I only knew how it was 1 
Could Agathe possibly — but no 1 ” 

“ No, no, somebody must have carried me, and 
Agathe can only just lift me, I am so big now. 
ril tell you — it was my guardian angel.” 

“ If only I understood 1 — but there’s only one 
thing to do — I must take her back to Montaigle,” 


THIEVES* CORNER 


177 


he sighed to himself. “Poor child! I might 
find some breakfast for her at old Guillaume’s 
by the way.” 

Renee had sprung to her feet and was stand- 
ing, a slender little white figure, by the tree. 
Whoever had brought her away from home, she 
was carefully and warmly dressed ; a hood, which 
had fallen off, had been tied over her dark curls. 
Nicolas rose more slowly, his eyes still full of 
wonder. He had a new idea that the child 
might have been drugged and carried off — but 
then, by whom, and why had she been left alone 
here ? He was thinking so hard that he forgot 
the blackberries. L’Oiselet’s look and words 
came back to him — “ The good God will see to 
that ! ” That meant, the Saint-Gervais should 
not take Renee away to Paris ; but what could 
a crippled, helpless being like TOiselet do ? 

“ Come, what are you thinking about ? ” the 
child said, and put her hand in his — when sud- 
denly Jacquot in the road gave a cry : 

“Monsieur Nico — monsieur — here comes the 
coach of Madame I’Abbesse de Fontevrault ? 

“Dieu merci!” cried the boy. “Ah, yes, 
Renee, it was your guardian angel who brought 
you here.” 

He felt suddenly illuminated. This was why 
Renee’s friend, still unknown, had brought her 
through the forest and laid her here beside the 
road, in a place where the coach must pass very 
slowly, and where the Abbess’s people coujd not 
fail to see her. Still, it was very strange that 
M 


78 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


she should have been left here unguarded, a prey 
for any wild beast, human or other, who might 
be prowling about the lonely precincts of the 
Coin des Larrons. These thoughts flashed 
through the lad’s mind as he hastily threw the 
great cloak once more round the child and lifted 
her down the bank into the clearer light of the 
road. 

“ Go a few yards up the hill and stop Madame 
TAbbesse,” he said to Jacquot, staring and gaping 
with curiosity. 

Renee clung to his hand as they waited. 

“ But if my Aunt de Rochechouart takes me, 
you must come too,” she said. 

“ No, ch^rie.” 

The Abbess’s mounted escort came clattering 
noisily along, the sunshine catching their points 
of steel — Barnabe, Pierre, Marc, Michel and the 
rest, with Philippe, rather Judas -faced, brother- 
in-law of Giraud the porter. In another moment, 
crowding round the sharp turn in the road, all 
these horses and men seemed to flow like a tor- 
rent round Jacquot and his two horses. There 
was a sudden confusion, plunging and shouting ; 
then at Barnabe’s orders the men drew up on 
the other side, and the postilions stopped the 
coach as it jolted round the corner, just before 
beginning the steepest descent of the hill. 

The terrified face of Mere de la Mothaye ap- 
peared at the window. She had just been de- 
voutly giving thanks for their happy escape from 
the Chateau de Montaigle, and fora safe journey 


THIEVES’ CORNER 


79 


through the depths of the forest. Now she 
thought that all the robbers in Anjou had as- 
sembled in this wild place to bar the way. 

“ One of the coach-horses has a stone in his 
foot, probably,” said the Abbess from her corner. 
“The road seems to be worse than when we 
came, a week ago.” 

On the front seat of the coach, between two 
nuns who supported him, lay TOiselet, white 
with pain, for this journey, which gave him in- 
tense mental joy, was physical agony. But he 
bore the jolting without a groan, though his body 
was a mass of bruises and all his bones seemed 
out of joint and he felt as if he could not live to 
reach Fontevrault. When the sudden stoppage 
came, he lifted his head, flushing and smiling 
with such a rapture in his great blue eyes that 
the nearest nun stared at him in half-suspicious 
wonder. The Abbess’s eye was also caught for 
a moment by the change in the boy’s suffering 
face, and she remembered it afterwards. 

Since leaving Montaigle her mind had been 
occupied with one thought, one question ; how 
was she to gain possession of the child, Diane’s 
child, in spite of prejudices, plots, and family 
arrangements ? Now, in some utterly mysterious 
fashion, the child was brought to her coach-door. 
The Mere de la Mothaye drew back with a pious 
exclamation, and the Abbess had had hardly 
time to come forward, when Nicolas d’Aumont 
lifted Renee to the coach-step, and from there to 
her arms. They closed round the little slender 


i8o THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


form in a clasp that was not likely to be loosened 
again. The Abbess laughed, but her dark eyes 
filled suddenly with tears. 

“ Mon Dieu ! Monsieur le Chevalier ! she ex- 
claimed ; and Nicolas never forgot the look she 
fixed upon him. ‘‘ Have you done this ? '' she 
said. “ Have you carried off our little Renee 
for me ? Your first campaign, and truly a suc- 
cessful one ! 

“Madame! No, I have done nothing,’" 
answered Nicolas, blushing crimson. “ I wish 
I had ” 

It was part of the Mortemart charm, perhaps, 
to make men feel how easy it would be, under 
those inspiring eyes, to fetch the moon out of 
the sky or an enemy’s flag from the centre of a 
besieged city. 

“ Who did it then r ” said the Abbess. 

Nicolas stood by the door and told her how he 
had found the child. 

“ Strange I And she knows nothing ? Well, 
my Ren6e, I hope you are your real self, and 
not a fairy changeling.” 

“Yes, ma tante, I am real,” said the child. 

The nuns were nodding their heads within, the 
grooms were chattering in low tones without. 
They had all heard of the phantom of the night, 
and all, therefore, had their explanation ready. 
Even the Abbess’s shrewd mind was puzzled ; 
but she looked again at I’Oiselet’s beaming eyes, 
at the flushing and fading cheeks as his little 
mistress smiled at him, and somehow suspected 


THIEVES’ CORNER 


i8i 


an explanation. She asked no questions, how- 
ever, till the journey was over, but immediately 
ordered her stove to be lighted and some soup 
warmed for Renee, holding her all the time and 
saying softly : “ Ch^re Diane — I have her at 
last — and against all the world I will keep her 
safely.'’ 

‘‘ Madame — how will you keep her ? " mur- 
mured the M^re de la Mothaye, with visions 
of angry fathers and cousins, only too much 
right on their side, storming the Abbey of 
Fontevrault. 

‘‘ Easily," said Gabrielle de Rochechouart 
with a touch of haughtiness. “ I shall write to 
the King." 

The coach rumbled on down the stony hill, 
turned to the left, and disappeared, outriders 
and all, on the flat and lonely road to Saumur. 
Nicolas, who had remounted, rode by the door 
as far as the parting of the roads, and then with 
a low bow and flourish of his hat disappeared 
out of his little playfellow’s life, this time, as it 
seemed. Anally. Her new aunt's utmost tender- 
ness could hardly console Ren^e. 

When all were gone, there was a rustling of 
the bracken on the steep slope of the wood 
above the Coin des Larrons, a few yards only 
from the group of beeches where Renee had 
been laid by her mysterious conductors. All 
the time, any one who had examined the hill 
closely might have seen the barrel of a musket 
peeping through the brown and russet mass of 


1 82 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


bracken and briars, and the long dark face of a 
crouching giant behind it. No wild animal 
could have lain more motionless, noiselessly 
waiting for its prey, than Grand-Gui as he kept 
guard over Mademoiselle Ren4e asleep. But 
the affair was safely over now. He rose to 
his full height, looked and listened cautiously 
up and down the road, gave a great yawn 
and a tremendous stretch, then plunged into 
the thickets and took a straight line across 
the forest to his father's hut near its other 
boundary. 

In the dusky evening of the fourth day from 
this, Joli-gars and Agathe met in their usual 
trysting-place under the great chestnut by the 
chapel. Agathe had much to say to her young 
lover, for the events of the last few days had 
drawn them together, she had been satisfied 
with his conduct and her own, and she was 
quite aware that the news she brought him 
to-night would not be very welcome. He 
already knew that a messenger had come from 
Madame de Eontevrault, setting the Marquis’s 
mind at rest as to the safety of his little daughter, 
so that orders had been given to stop the search 
which had gone on furiously ever since she 
disappeared, and in which he and his brother 
had taken an active share, while Agathe wept 
and tore her hair like any tragic actress. Her 
story was that she had awaked, that fatal morn- 
ing, to find the child gone. It seemed that no 


THIEVES’ CORNER 183 

one about the chateau could even guess at any 
explanation, except the awful one that Madame 
la Marquise had herself borne Renee away from 
the fate she dreaded for her. Even the Comte 
de Saint-Gervais, though he suspected everybody, 
coufd positively accuse no one, and his wife was 
quite carried away by terror and superstition. 
Jean had confided to her his story of the spectre 
in the chapel : the stories of the servants all 
tended the same way : and after putting off 
their journey for one day, the Saint-Gervais 
departed for Paris, leaving a mystery behind 
them. The Comte assured his cousin Montaigle 
that it would be unravelled some day ; but the 
Marquis shook his head and looked at him 
wildly. 

‘‘ How can we tell ? ’’ he said. “ How do we 
know anything — anything ? ” 

“We know what our reason teaches us, my 
dear Mathieu, Depend upon it, this is some 
foul play, and no spirit . has anything .to dq 
with it.” 

But Mathieu would not listen, and his cousin 
went away muttering : 

“ Best leave these lunatics to come to their 
right minds. As they have infected Fran9oise 
and that noodle of a boy, the affair for the 
present is hopeless.” 

Madame de Fontevrault’s letter did not clear 
up the mystery. It assured Monsieur de Mont- 
aigle of his child^s safety : but how she came to 
that side of the forest, where young D’Aumont 


1 84 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


found her, was still unknown. Very decidedly 
the Abbess took for granted that the child would 
now remain with her : indeed, she said that a 
command from the highest quarters would alone 
make her resign her charge, received in so 
mysterious a fashion. She asked whether her 
good cousin would send his reply by the hands 
of Rente’s own waiting-woman ; and this news, 
that she was going the next day to Fontevrault, 
was what Agathe had to tell Joli-gars that 
evening. 

She felt his strong hands tremble a little, but 
could hardly see his face in the darkness under 
the tree. 

‘‘ I do assure you,*' she said, “ I felt so wicked 
when the poor old master gave me my orders, I 
very nearly went down on my knees and told 
him all. His face looked so grey, so thin, I 
thought he would follow Madame before long — 
and when they two meet, Joli-gars, and when 
she tells him she had nothing to do with it, what 
a set of traitors he will think us all ! ** 

“ Oh no, he will laugh and be pleased with 
us,” Joli-gars said cheerfully. “ He will say we 
were quite right to do what she wished. He 
will forgive us in a moment. How would he 
feel in Paradise, if those Saint-Gervais demons 
had taken the demoiselle r ” 

“ Still I am sorry to have deceived him, though 
it was for his good. He meant to be kind to us 
in his way — to you and me.” 

“How was that?*' The clutch of Joli-gars, 


THIEVES* CORNER 185 

which she had rashly allowed by way of farewell, 
became suddenly tighter. 

“Take care, elephant! When Madame la 
Comtesse was going to carry the child away 
without me, he invented a nice little plan to 
comfort me. It was to marry you — do you 
hear ? — and live in one of his houses in the vil- 
lage. Gently — let me go, or I will not say a 
word more.’* 

“What did you say?** murmured Joli-gars 
tenderly. 

“ I thanked Monsieur le Marquis, and said I 
did not wish it.** 

“ Mechante I That was not true.** 

“ Indeed it was.** 

“ It is not true now, then. You shall go back 
to Monsieur le Marquis, and tell him to send 
some one else to Fontevrault. You are not made 
to be shut up with a crowd of nuns. Tell him 
you will marry your poor Chariot, and will 
live with him in the little house in the village. 
Come, I have deserved this reward.’* 

“ You have deserved nothing at all.** 

“ What ! Not for acting ghost, and terrifying 
Madame la Comtesse and the whole chateau and 
village out of their seven senses, and carrying 
Mademoiselle Ren4e safe off into the forest till 
that beast Grand-Gui took her out of my very 
arms, and almost woke her too soon 1 Not de- 
served anything for all that — for risking life and 
limb to obey your orders, ma’mselle 1 Did you 
think a kiss and a word would do — that I could 


i86 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


be whistled down the wind till we were both old 
and grey-headed — voyons done ! ” 

“ Mon petit Chariot, let me tell you, you are 
rather too bold. I have never promised you 
anything, remember, and if you are so scornful 
and so impatient, you may lose what you have 
already. Come, you know there is not another 
man at Montaigle that I ever speak to, and 
after you have done so much for our little lady, 
you will not grudge me to her now. I know 
how the child wants me — and after all, neither 
she nor I need spend all our lives at Fonte- 
vrault."’ 

“If there is not another man at Montaigle, 
there may be at Fontevrault.” 

“ Monks and grooms ! You really are a little 
foolish this evening. Nobody so tall as you — I 
can wager that safely.” 

“ I have to stoop rather far, to be sure ! ” 

“ Hush ! Stand still ! ” Agathe whispered 
suddenly;} 

Joli-gars had half lifted her off her feet in an 
embrace which she did not refuse him. He 
stopped her now with a silent kiss, but she strug- 
gled from him, and they stood breathless, hand 
in hand, listening to slow uncertain steps that 
were approaching the chapel door from the 
courtyard. There was the tapping of a cane 
against uneven stones in the twilight. 

Agathe and Joli-gars watched from the deep 
shadow where they stood, and saw the little 
Marquis pass before them, bent and tottering 


THIEVES’ CORNER 


87 


like an old man of eighty. Then the chapel door 
creaked as he pushed it open and stepped into 
the dim interior. As he went he muttered some- 
thing, but all that they could hear was one name, 
dwelt upon and repeated : 

“ Diane — Diane ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 

The garden at Fontevrault was never more 
lovely or more attractive than on a certain after- 
noon in May. A perfect warmth, a light clear 
air with none of the oppressiveness of summer ; 
early pink roses clustering against the white 
walls and archways half hidden by heavy masses 
of ancient ivy, and mixing their sweetness with 
the sharper scent of young walnut leaves, brought 
out by the sun after a shower. Down from the 
great church and the wide courts and quadrangles 
where old walnut-trees grew, the long ranges of 
buildings, the shady quiet cloister, there led the 
garden avenue of tall limes, not yet in blossom, 
all their delicate young leaves damp and shining, 
softly shaken by the wind and the birds. Some- 
body was playing the organ in the church, and 
the stately music, which followed a stranger 
down the avenue, also filled those white courts 
where windows stood open, where the young 
pensionnaires sat at their needlework, a nun 
reading to them softly and monotonously in the 
sleepy afternoon. In other rooms, other inmates 
of the Abbey, nuns, guests, servants, carried on 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 189 

their peaceful employments with that solemn 
music in their ears. 

Going on down the avenue, it faded gradually 
away and the song of the birds took its place, 
the deep sweet whistle of the loriot, as his gold 
plumage flashed among the leaves, distinguished 
among the many birds of the garden; the 
thrushes, the blackbirds, joyfully anticipating a 
fine feast of fruit, for the Abbess loved her 
feathered boarders ; and then lower down, the 
nightingales. But that was when one had 
passed along the tall avenue and plunged into 
the shadowy path under the charmilles^ the 
alleys of clipped limes which bordered most of 
the garden, leading to sunny spaces of grass or 
golden gravel, where roses again bloomed 
luxuriantly, here and there hanging over the 
stone edge of a fountain where Cupids watched 
the water-lilies and the gold and silver fish. 
Terraces with flights of stone steps broke the 
level of the garden, dividing one series of alleys 
and parterres from another. There seemed to be 
room for many romances in such a region of 
mingled sweetness and formality, where the 
shady walks might lead on for ever under the 
thick arches of leaves, nightingale-haunted. 
Indeed, this convent garden knew histories 
beyond those of the nuns who walked there 
sometimes in their hours of recreation. The 
Abbess’s guests were many and worldly at 
certain times in the year, from Madame de 
Montespan in her fallen greatness, beautiful, 


I go THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

passionate, nervous, miserable, to all the men 
and women of fashion, of learning, of science, 
who loved and reverenced Madame de Fonte- 
vrault. Here they came for peace and quiet, for 
religious retreat, for advice, for family meetings, 
and if they went back much the same into a 
world not particularly moral, who can say that 
the influence of Fontevrault, its splendid church 
services, its irreproachable inner life, was alto- 
gether wasted ? If Madame Gabrielle was very 
tolerant, she was never wrongly indulgent to 
herself or to others. Custom would not allow 
an Abbess of Fontevrault to shut herself out 
from the world: but one Abbess after another 
had proved that she knew how to be the salt of 
the world. 

The garden had royal recollections : to go no 
farther back, the little Queen Mary Stuart 
played there at six years old, when she was 
brought to visit Madame Louise de Bourbon. 
Henry IV., when King of Navarre, walked there 
with his aunt, Madame Eleonore de Bourbon. 
The great Mademoiselle, in the reign of Madame 
Jeanne Baptiste de Bourbon, spent a few days at 
Fontevrault with the unusual result of being 
bored. Her only amusement there was the 
gambols of a poor crazy nun behind the bars of 
her cage. 

“Lire, bdtir, jardiner ” — these were the three 
chief pleasures of Madame Gabrielle de Roche- 
chouart. When not busy with the thousand 
affairs of her community, to which she and her 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


191 

secretaries attended diligently for several hours 
of every day, she was reading Greek or French 
philosophy, improving the buildings of the 
Abbey, beautifying the garden ; and here in 
summer she spent all the time she could spare, 
read and wrote here, entertained circles of friends 
here, directing her labourers meanwhile, watch- 
ing the growth of her trees with all the interest 
of her contemporary, Madame de Sevigne. 

There was an alcove at the end of one of those 
dark leafy corridors, built of white stone, with 
roses arching its entrance and a large lilac-bush 
close by. It was furnished with a stone seat, 
two or three stools and a table, and it looked 
out into a sunny space of grass where a fountain 
was always playing. The soft splash of the 
water, the voice of a nightingale just now and 
then in the shade, chimed sweetly in with the 
rich low tones of Madame Gabrielle, sitting that 
afternoon in her favourite garden refuge, and 
reading in the ears of one listener from a 
favourite book — La Fontaine’s “ Fables ” — which 
she appreciated more wisely than the general 
public of that day. Her listener, sitting upright 
on a high stool, her hands discreetly folded 
across a piece of white embroidery just finished, 
was not quite so attentive as she ought to have 
been. A perfectly brought-up young lady of 
sixteen, in the black dress and formal cap of a 
convent pupil, her lovely eyes and mouth spoke 
of dreams of life far outside the convent wall. 
The dress was growing oddly inappropriate to 


192 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

Mademoiselle de Montaigle, who had now worn 
it for six years and a half. Still a child in her 
impetuous loving ways, she was a woman in 
beauty and wilfulness. Only two people in the 
convent could really manage Renee; it had 
always been so ; the Abbess herself and the 
Abbesses niece, Louise de Rochechouart de 
Mortemart, now her aunt’s chapelaine, the Mere 
de la Mothaye having become Grand Prioress. 
Herself a girl of sixteen when Rende was 
brought, to Fontevrault, Louise had taken charge 
of the child, had become her “little mother”; 
and though her grave and thoughtful nature was 
unlike Renee’s in every way, she had won and 
kept her devoted love. Now Renee was a 
reasonable being, and discipline was no longer 
necessary ; but there was always a certain 
barrier between her and her young companions, 
owing partly to her relationship with the Abbess, 
partly to the strange circumstances of her home 
and of her coming to the Abbey ; and Madame 
Gabrielle kept Diane’s child as constantly near 
herself as possible, read with her, trained her, 
till some of the community wondered whether 
Mademoiselle de Montaigle was meant to follow 
in the steps of Mademoiselle de Mortemart. 
The guests who flocked to the Abbey in Lent and 
in September made their remarks — had the little 
heiress really developed a vocation ? — they saw 
no signs of it ; or if not, why did not some of her 
distinguished connections come forward to 
arrange a marriage for her? Was her extra- 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


193 


ordinary old father too mad to be approached on 
the subject ? It was said at Versailles that the 
only person who ever saw him was his cousin 
Saint-Gervais, who went down to Montaigle 
every winter to hunt with him. But Saint- 
Gervais was not a gossip, and held his tongue 
discreetly as to past, present and future. And 
no one ventured to interrogate the Abbess of 
Fontevrault. 

After reading a few of her most admired 
fables, the Abbess paused and looked at Renee's 
soft young profile, the dreamy gaze that watched 
a bird perched on Cupid's shoulder ready to 
bathe in the fountain, the smiling mouth, the 
graceful turn of head and neck about which dark 
curls rippled, escaping from cap and ribbon. 

What are you thinking of, child ? " said 
Madame de Fontevrault suddenly. 

The clear pale skin became rosy. Renee came 
back to the present, lifting her long eyelashes 
with a little air of surprise. 

“ Is it the truth you want, madame ? 

“ Certainly. What was the last fable I read r " 

“ I don't know ! ” 

“ Precisely. Well ? 

“ I was thinking of Nico. I wonder if I shall 
ever see him again. I wonder where he is now. 
No one knows how good he was to me, when I 
was a naughty little girl. Do you know where 
he is, dear aunt ? 

“ No. I suppose he is doing his duty — as we 
all must." 

N 


194 the heiress OF THE FOREST 

“ Duty is a dry sort of thing/' said Renee, with 
a sigh. 

The Abbess was silent. No one in the world, 
not even her oldest friends, except perhaps the 
sister she so heartily loved and pitied, ever 
talked to her with the freedom of this girl. Her 
niece Louise, one day to be her successor, in 
whom her confidence was perfect, was all obedient 
reverence in her presence, and neither her nuns 
nor her guests could ever forget the position she 
held, gently as she used it. But the child Renee 
— well, there were explanations, and Madame de 
Fontevrault could never bring herself to check 
that fearless nature. Renee had learnt a love 
for her own gentle mother of a kind long before 
its time in the world at large ; her early child- 
hood had known very little restraint; and 
besides this, the Abbess watched with amuse- 
ment some of the characteristics of Mathieu de 
Montaigle, his plain speech, his unworldliness, 
his pride and resolute will, in the child he had 
been forced to confide to her care. There was 
no danger that Renee would fail in keeping any 
rules of outward etiquette, when she and her 
second mother were not alone ; so the Abbess let 
this state of things be, and in her heart 
loved it. 

“ Come here,'’ she said, pointing to her foot- 
stool, and in a moment Renee was at her 
feet. 

She laid down her beautiful La Fontaine, 
bound in blue morocco, with her arms on the 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


195 


side, took off the girl’s cap and twisted her fingers 
in her hair, curling it and playing with it. 

“We must not dream of the past, my Renee,’’ 
she said. “ It is your future that I have to think 
of now, child, and the past has nothing to do with 
it. Do you ever reflect that you cannot stay at 
Fontevrault for ever ? ” 

“ Why not ? I have no mother but you.” 

“ You have a father, and you have large estates 
waiting for you, and a husband, and a position 
as one of the great ladies of France. I have 
tried to educate my Renee for all that, and I do 
not fear that she will discredit me at Versailles. 
The less so that the Court is very different now 
— better, I suppose,” and she sighed. “Some 
people find it dull, I believe ; but you will not 
miss what you have never known.” 

“Perhaps not,” said Renee, “but I should 
have liked to live in the days of the Regency 
or the Fronde, when people had adventures. 
I think a dull Court must be something ridicu- 
lous.” 

The Abbess smiled. “As long as human 
nature lasts,” she said, “ there will be adven- 
tures of one kind or another ; and morality 
gains, no doubt, by civilisation. Yes, these 
changes make it easier for people to be good. 
You hardly know what society was five-and- 
twenty years ago, when your dear mother cind I 
were at the Abbaye aux Bois. You have fallen 
on better times, Renee. Now listen, my dear. 
My brother, your uncle de Vivonne, writes of a 


196 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


young gentleman in the south whose fortune and 

estates would match your own 

Renee shook her curls violently. “No, no; 
I will have nothing to do with him.*' 

“A little less haste, mademoiselle, if you 
please. It is possible that this splendid mar- 
riage may not be offered to you. At least a 
dozen families are fighting for the honour. And 
then, the young man is a ward of his Majesty’s, 
and our family interest at Court is not what it 
was, though as to myself my confidence in the 
King’s friendship is always strong. Still, my 
brother thinks the arrangement not improbable. 
He is working for you. If the offer is made, I 
shall accept it with enthusiasm.” 

“ And my father — what would he say ? ” 

“He could not refuse a suggestion from such 
high quarters.” 

As the Abbess spoke she remembered the 
Saint-Gervais intrigues of old. She had heard 
no more of those family plots. She had done 
her duty by Diane and saved her child, and was 
now on the brink of arranging a really good 
marriage for her. But it was never quite safe to 
reckon without Ren6e. 

“Madame, I am convinced that I have a 
vocation. When I tell you that, you will not 
drive me into any marriage.” 

The girl spoke low and hurriedly, without look- 
ing up. The Abbess frowned and flushed a little. 

“ As you are the only person convinced, you 
will not expect me to listen to you. And hovf 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


197 


you contradict yourself ! With one breath you 
wish for adventures, with the next you ask to be 
shut up for life in a convent/^ 

‘‘ It is the happiest place in the world/* 

“ That may be, but it is not a life-long home 
for you. Remember, Renee, I will hear no more 
of this. Vocation, indeed! little trifler I You ought 
to do penance for even mentioning the word.” 

As she spoke, a small figure in black came 
limping swiftly out of the shade of the limes. It 
was rOiselet, a boy no longer, but the thinnest, 
smallest, most spiritual-looking creature that 
ever led an active life among his fellows. The 
Abbess’s page, secretary, private musician, con- 
fidential servant, he had been now for more than 
six years the most familiar and most trusted 
figure outside the actually cloistered world of 
Fontevrault. His bright eyes saw everything, his 
clever brain found no combination too difficult, 
his heart seemed one flame of unselfish devotion. 
L’Oiselet had long ago confessed to his new 
mistress the manner in which Mademoiselle 
Ren6e had been spirited away from Montaigle ; 
but that confession had gone no farther, and as 
the foresters had carefully held their tongues, the 
chateau and the forest, with a well-proved ghost 
story, were more than ever places of awe to the 
neighbourhood. 

“ Madame,” said TOiselet, coming forward, a 
messenger from the King.” 

He looked at Renee with his brightest smile, 
and muttered something about “ a visitor,*’ but 


198 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


the Abbess took no notice of that. She rose in- 
stantly, saying to Renee, “Wait for me here,’* 
and walked away through the shadows, rather 
slowly and heavily, in her long white habit. 

Renee beckoned to the dwarf, but he shook his 
head and hurried off by a side, pathway, his face 
rippling with laughter. L*Oiselet*s manhood 
had developed some mischief in him, as well as 
other talents. ^ i r ' v 

The unnamed visitor, who had ridden up to 
the gate rather doubtfully, and was not even en- 
tirely reassured by meeting such an old friend, 
and being begged to wait till the royal messenger 
just arrived had been announced to Madame, 
was somewhat awed and puzzled when the dwarf, 
returning, led him across courts and down what 
seemed endless avenues, where the organ’s roll- 
ing music pursued him solemnly. The stranger 
would have talked to I’Oiselet, would have asked 
where he was leading him, but in these mys- 
terious precincts, all religious and dim, this 
cautious gliding through the deep shade of long 
dark alleys, talking seemed a difficulty. In fact, 
rOiselet laid his finger on his lip, shook his 
head, and would say nothing. At last they 
came to a place where frogs and nightingales 
made an odd, discordant chorus, and there, sit- 
ting on the stone edge of a large old fountain, 
poking among the wet leaves with a stick, was 
a girl, bareheaded, with dark locks in lovely 
disorder, and a face like a flower above her plain 
and severe black dress. 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


199 


“ Mademoiselle ! cried the ringing tones of 
rOiselet, and then, as she sprang to her feet — 
“ La voila, monsieur ! he said to his companion, 
and gently withdrew into the shadow. 

Renee stood with startled eyes and lips apart. 
She saw a grave, dignified, handsome young 
man in travelling dress, hat in hand, who bowed 
low, and then stood gazing with an incredulous, 
bewildered air. Was it really — no, impossible — 
this was a grown-up lady — then his fine blue 
eyes blazed suddenly, the wonder in them break- 
ing into joy. She came to him lightly where he 
stood, still almost in the darkness of the lime 
alley, laughed, and held up both her arms, lifting 
her face to his with the most enchanting look, in 
its perfect innocence, that ever welcomed a lover. 

“ Nico — mon frere 

Her face was hidden on the young soldier’s 
breast, while he strained her in his arms and 
covered her hair with kisses. A merry chuckle 
from the underwood did not disturb them. 
Renee quite forgot that she was grown up, till 
Nico’s kisses became too evidently not those of 
a brother. Then she tried to release herself, but 
it was not so easy. Both were laughing, his arm 
still round her, her two hands clasped in one of 
his, the dark and fair heads touching, while in a 
wild and happy and half-shy excitement they 
talked their childhood over again, when the 
Abbess returned after an absence that seemed 
to her long, and found them sitting in her alcove 
together. 


200 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


For a few moments she stood motionless, look- 
ing at them, and they were not disturbed by her 
soft approach. The extraordinary sight — for a 
convent garden — did not horrify Madame Ga- 
brielle, though it certainly startled her. She 
stood smiling, with tears in her dark eyes, with 
the King's letter in her hand. ‘‘ And the voca- 
tion — ah, Ren4e ! " she said to herself. 

It was pretty, but it could not go on. . “ Mon- 
sieur d'Aumont ! she said aloud. 

The young man looked up and saw the kind 
beautiful face under the black veil, with a certain 
sternness beneath the smile. In a moment he 
was at her feet, reverently kissing her ring — and 
Renee too was there. 

“ Madame — dear aunt — do you see him ? You 
are not angry ? It is my Nico, and we love each 
other — we always did, you know. And you will 
not make any marriage for me, dearest aunt, 

because I never, never 

‘‘ Hush, Ren6e,’^ said the Abbess. The stern- 
ness conquered now, for this was serious. “ Be 
reasonable, or I shall send you at once to spend 
a week alone in a cell on bread and water. Rise, 
monsieur. I do not know what excuse you can 

make for yourself " 

“ But it was all my fault," broke in Ren^e. 

“ Be silent. I have not forgotten, monsieur, 
my late cousin's affection for you, or that you 
were brought up with this young girl as brother 
and sister. I forget nothing. Otherwise, the 
very least I should do would be to have you con- 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


201 


ducted out of the Abbey at once by my servants. 
And pray, how do you come to be here at all ? ” 

“ I was brought here, madame — to your pre- 
sence, as I thought,'' Nicolas answered, with 
what dignity he might. “ Pardon me — I forgot 
— the joy was too great " 

‘‘I understand. You found yourself here by 
some mistake — which must never happen again — 
and you forgot, as she did, that Mademoiselle de 
Montaigle was no longer a child to be played 
with. However, monsieur, I might have expected 
you to remember all that she herself did not." 

“ It is true, madame," the young fellow said, 
and blushed. 

He perceived that he had committed a tre- 
mendous breach of etiquette, and also that 
Madame de Fontevrault was treating both him 
and Renee with great gentleness. It was lucky, 
certainly, that she had not come upon the scene 
a little earlier. Renee hung her head, pouting, 
with tears of pride and rebellion in her eyes. 
They stood before the Abbess like two naughty 
children, to be lectured and brought back to 
propriety. Then a bell began to ring in the 
distance. 

“ Go, Renee," said the Abbess ; and Nicolas 
watched his little love as she walked away 
without a word or a look. 

And all the time a nightingale went on sing- 
ing, but the charm of the garden was gone with 
Renee. 

“Now, Monsieur le Chevalier," said the Ab- 


202 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


bess, turning to Nicolas with her most gracious 
smile, am very happy to see you. I well 
remember that I invited you to visit me. Sit 
down there, and tell me what you have been 
doing since I saw you last/' 

Nico's story was a short and simple one. He 
had been on frontier duty, he had roughed it a 
good deal, had thoroughly enjoyed his soldier 
life under Luxembourg, and now that his regi- 
ment had returned to Saumur he was on his way 
to visit his guardian at Montaigle. Therefore 
he had ventured to present himself at Fonte- 
vrault. 

The Abbess considered him thoughtfully. She 
had seldom seen a handsomer or a nobler-looking 
young man. The promise of his boyhood had 
been entirely fulfilled. And she, who had seen 
too much of courts and courtiers, admired with 
all her heart the simple manners of the soldier, 
who knew little of either. 

“What a pity, Chevalier," she said kindly, 
“ that you are not your own eldest brother, or 
at least a man of some estate and fortune." 

“For one reason, madame, I regret it," said 
Nicolas. 

“ Your reason is the same as mine," she said. 
“ However, we must accept things as they are, 
and with courage and self-control. Have you 
heard anything," she went on, after a moment's 
thought, “ of a marriage that Monsieur de Mon- 
taigle is now arranging for Renee ? " 

“Nothing.'^ Nicolas blushed up to his eyes. 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


203 


“ Neither had I, till an hour ago/’ she said ; 

and it annoys me, as my brother the Due de 
Vivonne has already proposed to me a young 
gentleman who seems likely to be an excellent 
match for her/’ 

“ And who is it that my guardian } ” Nico- 

las began, and his eyes glowed dangerously. 

“Not the old story again, I trust! Of late 
years I have heard little of those persons. But 
I think Monsieur de Vassy succeeded in disen- 
chanting my good cousin. I have some confi- 
dence in him, and of course in the protection 
of God. But I know nothing, except what this 
letter tells me. When you arrived, I was 
receiving a messenger from his Majesty. Ah! 
was it rOiselet who brought you into the gar- 
den ? ” 

“ It was, madame — an old friend.” 

“ And an indiscreet one. However, no matter. 
I forgive him. Listen, Chevalier.” 

In her soft full tones she read the King’s 
letter, Nicolas looking gloomily on the ground 
meanwhile : 

“Madame l’Abbesse de Fontevrault, 

“ As a mark of my high esteem and affection 
for you, I consented some years ago to your 
taking charge, according to Madarhe her late 
mother’s desire, of the education of Mademoi- 
selle de Montaigle. I understand that M. le 
Marquis de Montaigle is now arranging a suit- 
able marriage for his daughter, to which I shall 


204 the heiress of THE FOREST 


give my consent, always provided that no reli- 
gious vocation interferes. You will understand 
me if I say, with all reverence for yourself and 
your Order, that I should regret any such obstacle 
in the case of Mademoiselle de Montaigle. Have 
the kindness to place no difficulty in the way of 
her returning to her father's house. I have con- 
fidence in your good-will, and I know that your 
only desire will be to carry out my wishes in 
this matter. I commend myself to your prayers, 
and I pray God to have you, Madame TAbbesse 
de Fontevrault, in His holy keeping. 

Louis.'" 

The Abbess paused. Her companion looked 
up, fixing his eyes on her anxiously, but said 
nothing. 

“ This letter is law, of course," she said. “ If 
my cousin de Montaigle sends for his daughter, 
she must go — ^but not alone. I must send some 
one to take charge of her — and who? That 
puzzles me." 

She spoke half to herself. 

“Madame, I shall be there,” said Nicolas. 
The Abbess fairly laughed. 

“ Excellent, monsieur ! You would be the per- 
fection of a dame de compagnie. Do not be 
offended," she added very kindly. “I have a 
good opinion of you, in spite of your little for- 
getfulness. Do you know, I have an ideal — I 
am an old-fashioned, romantic person. I believe 
it dates from days of chivalry, and much further 


THE ABBEY GARDEN 


205 


back than our Middle Ages — in fact from Plato, 
whom I have studied much, and who seems to 
me the type of human perfection. My ideal 
shows me a young man in your position, for 
instance, who holds himself superior to the 
temptations of his age and time. I can imagine 
him preserving a deep tenderness for a young 
girl he has known from her birth, and yet a per- 
fect recognition of the insurmountable barrier 
which the circumstances of life have set up be- 
tween them. In your position you can never 
hope to marry. But your loyal devotion — call 
it love, if you like, for it is indeed a high kind of 
love — may be of the utmost value to Renee ; 
that is, if you have the strength to protect her 
against a foolish fancy for yourself, as well as 
against all kinds of danger from without. Is It 
too much for htiman nature, monsieur? Her 
dear mother, on her death-bed, wished that you 
had been in the place of Jean de Vassy. She 
trusted you as a boy ; it would not surprise her 
that I am ready to trust you now. Yes — if I am 
to part with my Rende, to send her back to her 
father^s house — though a dame de compagnie 
will be necessary — I shall be very glad to think 
that my ideal knight is there to guard her.’* 

Nicolas stood up suddenly. “ You are right 
to warn me,” he muttered. “ Yes, I adore her. 
I had better go back at once to my regiment.” 

At that moment TOiselet appeared once more, 
flying upon the scene. Madame — Madame la 
Comtesse de Saint-Gervais ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


“VIVE MONSIEUR NICO ! ” 

The wild and r^lpid clanging of the church bells 
and a crowd of staring peasants in the village 
street, welcomed back Mademoiselle de Mont- 
aigle to her father's house. For once the old 
chateau looked cheerful, even gay, its white 
towers rising on the hill out of a mass of May 
leaves, gold and green, pearled with chestnut 
blossom. And the great forest, which Renee 
had never feared, seemed to be rejoicing in its 
spring dress at her return — a beautiful, brilliant 
girl instead of a forlorn little child — one of these 
days to be lady of castle and forest too. 

Renee sat in the coach beside her cousin 
Madame de Saint-Gervais, all kindness, flattery, 
and good-humour, even though Nicolas d’Au- 
mont was riding near the window; and the 
sturdy horses tramped up and down hill, and the 
outriders pranced and clanked alongside. The 
girl's tears at leaving Fontevrault had been 
some time in drying ; but after all no young 
creature long imprisoned, even within the dearest 
of sheltering walls, could resist the beauty of 
that world of May — Anjou in May — the May 


‘‘ VIVE MONSIEUR NICO ! 


207 


that justifies the poets : a wilderness of wild 
roses, honeysuckle, feathery golden broom, birds 
and frogs and insects rejoicing in chorus. The 
poplars with their young leaves glowed like 
great tall torches in the clear gold air and the 
setting sun, as the coach dashed through the 
village, the men whipping up their horses to 
full speed. 

In the last shadows of the forest two men were 
standing, not far from the crucifix where Madame 
de Fontevrault had prayed for her dying cousin, 
but where this coach had not stopped, though 
the travellers crossed themselves as they passed 
it. These men were two of the forester brothers 
— Gars-cogne, more sulky than of old, Grand-Gui, 
more melancholy. They were dressed in their 
best velvet jackets, with the Marquis’s arms 
embroidered on their belts, and were a pair of 
splendid and most discontented-looking fellows. 
Each carried a gun and a long knife. 

“ She did not look at us,’" Gars-cogne growled. 
They are all alike, these nobles. One gives 
them one’s flesh and blood — ah ! 

“ She could not look both ways at once, you 
grunting pig* Didn’t you see that Monsieur 
Nico was riding near the other window ? ” 

“Was he? Was it Monsieur Nico, that offi- 
cer ? Well, he did not see us — they are all alike, 
I tell you — hang them all ! ” 

“You lie — they are not. What likeness is 
there between Monsieur Nico and Monsieur 
JeanJ I ask you ! ” 


2o8 the heiress of THE FOREST 


‘‘ Monsieur Jean is not there. I have not 
forgotten the last time — three years ago, was it ? 
He struck me because he missed the boar, and 
told me I was a lumbering elephant. One of 
these days I shall kill him.*’ 

“ Take care. Agathe says that marriage is in 
their heads again : indeed it has never been out 
of them.” 

‘‘All the more reason for killing him. You, 
who thought so much of your old father — what 
did he say on his death-bed ? May God save 
Montaigle from Saint-Gervais and all his tribe ! ” 
“Very well. If it be God’s will. He will do it. 
By breaking God’s laws we shall not do it.” 

“I suppose you want to save your skin, or 
why do you talk like Monsieur le Cure ? ” 

“ Come, fool — we have stood here long 
enough,” answered Grand-Gui, grimly smiling. 

He stalked on and followed the coach, tower- 
ing through the dust it had raised. Gars-cogne, 
still growling, turned back into the wood. 

It was unwillingly enough, as one may guess, 
that the Abbess had given up her charge into 
the hands of Madame de Saint-Gervais. But 
different forces had been brought to bear, one 
after another, till their pressure was irresistible. 
First, the King’s letter. ,The well-being of the 
Fontevrault communities depended too much on 
his favour for his wishes to be set aside in any 
v/ay. Then the arrival of Madame de Saint- 
Gervais in the Montaigle coach, with a retinue 
of the Marquis’s servants. She came as an 


“VIVE MONSIEUR NICO!’^ 


209 


ambassador, bringing a letter from Monsieur de 
Montaigle to the Abbess; and this letter touched 
Madame Gabrielle’s heart a little. The stiff 
father seemed to express a real wish to see his 
child again, to have her living at Montaigle, at 
least while his cousins were there. As to ques- 
tions of the future, he went on, his daughter's 
inclinations should decide. “I have forgotten 
nothing." 

Then the Comtesse, apparently, was a much 
altered woman. She was full of polite speeches 
and devotion. The glory of her adored friend 
Madame de Maintenon, whose supreme clever- 
ness and strength of will had made her the 
King’s wife two years before, shone from her 
with a pleasant reflected light of power and 
prosperity. She could afford now to show every 
gracious attention, here following Madame de 
Maintenon’s lead, to the vanquished house of 
Mortemart. She frankly told Madame de Fonte- 
vrault that the family wish as to Rente’s mar- 
riage remained the same, but added reassuringly 
that her son had become a charming young man, 
to whom no young lady could have any personal 
objection. On the contrary, several delightful 
matches had been proposed for him at Versailles, 
and great disappointment had been caused by 
his father’s declining them all, his heart being 
set on this alliance which would make Jean the 
head of his own family. Now that Madame de 
Saint-Gervais saw Ren^e once again, she was 
astonished at her grace and beauty. Her only 
O 


210 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


doybt was, had this sweet and holy atmosphere, 
this mother’s love, these attractions of an earthly 
paradise which she herself so regretted never to 
have visited before, so hoped to visit often in the 
future — had all this laid such a hold on Renee 
that she could not leave it ? In short, had she 
developed a vocation ? Every one had thought 
this so extremely likely, such a natural end 
under the circumstances of Madame de Fonte- 
vrault’s guardianship, that the doubt had found 
its way through Madame de Maintenon into 
King Louis’s letter. The Comtesse had never 
been more relieved in her life than when Madame 
de Fontevrault said gravely and quietly, “ No.” 

Then, the next day, the weight of two more 
letters was thrown into the same scale. Madame 
de Maintenon wrote to the Abbess, with whom 
she was always on the most courteous terms, 
praising the Saint-Gervais family as excellent 
Christians in these days when religion was 
threatened on every side, and repeating in plain 
words the King’s wish that the great Montaigle 
inheritance should fall into hands so certain to 
use it well. Then last, not least, came a letter 
from the Due de Vivonne, stating with regret 
that the King and Madame de Maintenon had 
made other arrangements for that young gentle- 
man in the South who had seemed so desirable 
a match for Mademoiselle Renee. 

And thus with a reluctant heart, haunted by 
the dying looks and words of her cousin Diane, 
quite disbelieving in the charms of Jean de Vassy, 


“VIVE MONSIEUR NICO»/* 


21 I 


but with a certain confidence that Diane's hus- 
band would keep his promise, the Abbess wished 
her weeping child good-bye, and said a few 
words of encouragement in her ear. 

“ Be brave, my Renee, do your duty, and re- 
member that the doors of my house and of my 
heart are always open to you." 

It was not made clear to Renee what this duty 
might be, recommended to her earnestly and not 
without tears. Nothing special, apparently ; 
only that “dry sort of thing" which was ex- 
pected of all well brought up people. 

In the meanwhile, Madame de Saint-Gervais 
was all kindness and pretty speeches ; her open 
admiration was a rather pleasantly thrilling fore- 
taste of life outside Fontevrault. And the fact 
that Nico was riding by the coach, the Comtesse 
having graciously accepted his escort, had a 
secret delight in it which made the sunshine 
brighter. He had a stupid way of staring straight 
at his horse's ears, so that Rende watched in 
vain from the coach window, when her com- 
panion was not talking to her, for a look and a 
smile ; still he was there, and Madame de Saint- 
Gervais would have been startled, if she could 
have read the thoughts of the pretty head beside 
her. 

“Remember the ideal," had been the Abbess's 
last words to Nicolas d'Aumont, with the unfor- 
gettable smile of her race. 

There was nothing sad in the arrival at Mont- 
aigle. The coach with its mounted escort dashed 


212 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


in grand style up the hill from the bridge, ser- 
vants and dogs hurrying out to meet it, a great 
clamour about the gates in the bright evening. 
The porter clanged back his tall iron gratings, 
easy work for his height and strength, hard for a 
smaller man. The Marquis had taken Joli-gars 
from the forest and given him charge of the 
gates, when Agathe came back from Fontevrault 
to marry him, five years since. As he had ex- 
pected, she had found the convent world too 
much for her, especially as she had not full 
charge of her young lady. Now she lived hap- 
pily with her tall Chariot over the gateway, and 
their two sunburnt, black-headed babies played 
in the courtyards. In this small household the 
old traditions were sacred. Only here and out 
in the forest, where Grand-Gui and Gars-cogne 
did the work of their father and his three sons, 
and talked of the dead Marquise as a saint in 
Paradise. All the rest of the establishment, out- 
door and in, from Baudouin to the lowest scul- 
lion, worshipped the rising sun and obeyed the 
Saint-Gervais influence ; the Comte, in his fre- 
quent visits to his lonely cousin, had taken care 
of that. Baudouin, inspired by him, stated as a 
fact that Monsieur le Vicomte would be the next 
master of Montaigle. As to the curse of the 
Marquise, as to the mysterious carrying off of 
her child — one could only shrug one’s shoulders. 
The secret had been well kept ; the mystery was 
as deep as ever, but the terror faded with time. 
And now at last it seemed as if the Comte’s reso- 


“VIVE MONSIEUR NICO!” 


213 


lute confidence was to be justified. Here was 
the castle full of guests ; all kinds of gay people 
invited by him, with the Marquis’s consent, to 
spend a week or two of early summer among the 
green forests of Anjou. And the coach-door was 
opened, and from the broad step descended the 
little Comtesse, pale, vivid, smiling in her 
triumph ; and this girl with lovely dark eyes, 
with all her mother’s grace, but with a touch of 
fire, of haughtiness mixed with sweetness, such as 
her sad and gentle mother had lacked, and with 
all the air of a great lady in her straight convent 
gown — this was the child whose dead brothers 
had left to her the future of old Montaigle. 

Renee glanced quickly round as she followed 
Madame de Saint-Gervais into the hall. She 
saw a good many strange faces and a medley of 
bright colours, silk gowns, velvet coats, smiles 
and gaiety. She recognised the pale face of her 
cousin Alexandre, and curtseyed in answer to 
his bow. Then a small dark figure came for- 
ward, and she quickened her steps, and curt- 
seyed again, very low, before her father, and 
bent to kiss his hand. 

“ Bonjour, ma fille ! ” said the tired voice of 
the Marquis, while a spasm of some momentary 
feeling convulsed his face ; he drew her close to 
him and kissed her forehead. 

“ Bonjour, monsieur ! ” said the girl, and added 
instantly, “ Father, do you know that our Nico 
is here ? He has come to visit you. He rode 
beside the coach all the way.” 


214 the heiress of the forest 


There was a slight sensation in the hall, for 
the young lady’s voice was clear and very audible. 

“He is welcome. Where is he?” said the 
Marquis. 

Nicolas came forward, rather grave and shy, 
under the encouragement of Renee’s eyes and 
his guardian’s outstretched hand. For a minute 
the three were standing together in the middle 
of the hall, while the guests smiled and stared 
and whispered a little, for the penniless chevalier, 
doomed to a single life, and the heiress of Mont- 
aigle, whose future was arranged, made certainly 
a most beautiful pair as they stood there. 

Suddenly a voice from the doorway, over the 
heads of the thronging servants, cried out hoarsely 
— “ Vive Monsieur Nico ! ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


HOW THEY DANCED 

Nicolas retired into the background, and kept 
himself there. It was not difficult, for he was 
naturally a grave and reserved young man, and 
no one at Montaigle followed the impolitic 
example set by that voice in the doorway in 
bringing him into notice. The Marquis did not 
interfere ; he was himself little seen among the 
guests whom he had allowed his cousins to invite 
in honour of Renee’s coming out of the convent. 
Madame de Saint-Gervais had represented how 
necessary it was that the girl should see and be 
seen. Renee’s father did not refuse. 

“Arrange it all as you please,” he said. 
“ Consider the house and the servants yours. 
Do all for my daughter that should be done. 
She has the misfortune to have a father who 
knows and cares for none of these things.” 

Madame de Saint-Gervais laughed merrily. 
“ On the contrary, her father is perfection. 
Yes, dear cousin, trust me, and do not disturb 
yourself in the least. We will do everything,” 
she said. 


2i6 the heiress of THE FOREST 


She dressed Renee in silks and satins from 
Paris ; had her dark hair arranged in a mass of 
curls and ringlets which showed off its natural 
beauty, hidden by the convent cap so long. She 
introduced her to two or three unmarried girls a 
little older than herself, lately come out into the 
world from other convents, shortly to be married, 
and beginning life with keen curiosity and en- 
joyment, full of dress, gossip, scandal and lively 
fun. 

This little party of young girls made a pretty 
group apart in the gloomy halls and corridors of 
theold house. Ren^e,towhomall this new life was 
amusing and enchanting, took the lead amongst 
them easily. They went out to gather flowers, 
danced, played games, acted little plays and 
tableaux. Here Renee excelled, for acting was 
among the pet amusements of Fontevrault. 

According to etiquette, the young girls kept 
apart from other people in their games and all 
their daily life. They were sharply watched by 
mothers, aunts, responsible cousins and friends ; 
but young men were kept carefully at a distance, 
or if they joined in games or dancing, it was in 
the stiffest and most guarded manner. However, 
young men were on this occasion scarce. Jean 
de Vassy was still absent. Madame de Saint- 
Gervais had not found it necessary to invite any 
one who might possibly become his rival, for her 
confidence in her cousin Montaigle was not 
altogether assured, and she perceived that 
Ren6e, not to mention her possessions, was a 


HOW THEY DANCED 


217 


prize that princes might envy. Therefore the 
only young men were penniless younger sons, 
who looked ornamental and made themselves 
useful like squires of old, and were too wise and 
well brought-up to be troubled with any mad 
ambitions. They looked on, behaving with the 
strictest good manners, Nicolas d’Aumont one 
of them. They chattered among themselves, and 
in this he did not share. He kept his thoughts 
to himself, watching the brilliant figure and face 
of his child-love, as she threw herself, seemingly 
rather forgetful of him, into all the new life 
around her. 

Now and then he went for long expeditions in 
the forest with his old friend Grand-Gui. One 
day, returning from one of these, rather dismally 
thinking of things the forester had said, he came 
upon a party from the chateau just on the borders 
of the wood, gathering wild-flowers in a small 
meadow where the grass was growing long for 
hay. The girls, under the care of a governess 
who had come with them from Versailles, were 
making havoc of the grass, and trampling it 
down in all directions. Three or four servants 
grinned in the background. Farther off, the 
dark face of the peasant who owned the meadow, 
who saw his crop destroyed in this way and 
dared not remonstrate, scowled angrily through 
the trees. 

“ Shame ! '' Nico muttered to himself, pausing 
in the shade. 

His own rather hard life had taught him some 


2i8 the heiress of THE FOREST 


consideration for other people ; from childhood, 
too, the discontent of the peasants and the good 
reasons for it had fallen on generous ears, though 
hands were powerless for reform. 

He stood quite still, listening to the laughter 
of the girls as it mingled with the sweet May- 
singing of the birds in the wood. Magpies and 
jays watched them too, chattering among them- 
selves, and all the warm ciir was full of the 
humming of bees in the great bushes of honey- 
suckle and the song of the crickets in the long 
grass. He was standing under an old half- 
decayed oak-tree, of which the lower boughs 
were near the ground. Suddenly a voice close 
to his shoulder said very low and sweetly, 
“ Nico ! He pushed aside the leaves, and 
there, hidden from everybody, sat Mademoiselle 
Renee in a mossy fork of the tree. 

‘‘ What are you angry about ? she said, for 
even at the sight of her Nicolas did not smile. 

He coloured slightly. It was not his business, 
but he would tell her all the same. 

“ You did not think what you were doing,'' he 
said rather grimly, “ when you brought your 
companions to destroy poor Jeannot's hay." 

Oh ! " said the little lady with a touch of 
haughtiness — “ surely we have a right to go 
where we please. Besides, we are not hurting 
the hay." 

“ Pardon ! It will be twice as difficult to cut, 
and some of it is so trodden down that it will be 
spoilt altogether. Jeannot is a poor man." 


HOW THEY DANCED 


219 


‘‘ Ta, ta ! all the peasants here are very well 
off. They have no right to complain/' 

Don't speak like that. They have heavy 
burdens to bear, and you need not add to them 
by your thoughtlessness.” 

“ You are not too polite, sir.” 

“ Forgive me. I am only speaking the truth.” 

He reddened up to his ears, and turned his 
head away. It was impossible to meet Renee's 
laughing eyes like a philosopher. 

“ Dear Nice, you really are a little stupid and 
rather disagreeable,” she said softly. “You 
were much nicer when — ” she stopped short. 
“ I cannot imagine why you came to Montaigle. 
I was so pleased, and now — well, a tame bear 
would be pleasanter and more useful than you 
are, except to people like Jeannot.” 

“ Mechante ! ” he said under his breath. 

The old oak hung his leaves like a screen 
between the outer world and them. From where 
he stood close by Renee, in the tall undergrowth 
of tangling weeds, just where the forest broke off 
into the unfenced meadow, he could hardly see 
the laughing girls as they gathered flowers or 
Jeannot's angry face beyond. Sweet, sweet 
Renee, smiling down on him from her seat on 
the grey bough, in some ways as much a child 
as when he found her in the forest that magical 
autumn morning, long ago. How hard it was 
not to take her in his arms now after a different 
fashion ! She would not be angry, he knew. 
She loved him too in a way of her own, knowing 


220 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


nothing of life beyond the walls of her convent. 
Instinct told her, of course, that he was not quite 
now the elder brother Nico — yet she would not 
be angry. Love and loyalty had a very hard 
tussle just then. The young soldier stood up- 
right, with downcast eyes and fingers clenched. 
Renee watched him under her long lashes, 
her mouth curled in a mischievous but sweet 
little smile, and for a few moments there was 
silence. 

Give me your hand,’' she said at last. “ I 
must go back to them now. You are right, I 
suppose ; you always used to be. Stay in the 
wood till we are gone, and I give you my word 
of honour, I will console Jeannot. Yes, I see 
him over there.” 

“You are an angel,” Nico said, and they 
laughed in each other’s face as he helped her 
down from the tree. 

A little later the peasant Jeannot was alone in 
his meadow, chinking certain gold crowns in his 
pocket. His face was still dark and scowling as 
he examined his trodden grass, though “ Not so 
bad, after all ! ” were the words he muttered to 
himself. 

On that Sunday the whole company from the 
chateau attended mass at the parish church. 
The Marquis, his daughter, and his distinguished 
guests sat in high places in the chancel, with 
much rustling of silks and clatter of swords. 
The village musicians, led by Pimbaux the 
schoolmaster, trumpeted their best, and Made- 


HOW THEY DANCED 


221 


moiselle Renee herself made the quete, the 
Chevalier d’Aumont in attendance upon her. 
Among the congregation there was a good 
deal of smiling and whispering as these two 
young people made their rounds. It was not 
the first time : they had served together in the 
same way as children, on high festivals, under 
the loving eyes of Renee’s mother. Now 
Madame de Saint- Gervais watched them side- 
ways, and the corners of her mouth had a sour 
expression. She disliked everything that brought 
the handsome Nicolas forward, though she knew 
there was no real reason to be afraid of him. 

After mass the villagers stood in groups, as 
they usually did, under the yews in the church- 
yard, and many of them had a smile and a word 
from Mademoiselle Ren6e, who remembered the 
old faces of her childhood. Grand-Gui the 
forester went down on one knee and kissed her 
hand, Gars-cogne’s ugly face grinned, and Joli- 
gars wore his broadest smile, while Agathe and 
her children clung round the young mistress at 
home again. These people, her mother’s foster- 
kindred, felt that she was especially their own. 
They too knew facts in her history quite hidden 
from the rest of the parish. But Ren6e felt her- 
self the lady of all Montaigle, and all the grave 
dark faces of the peasants lighted up as she 
came near ; and the women in their picturesque 
caps were ready to greet her with a laughing 
admiration full of pretty politeness. It was all. 
Mademoiselle Ren^e found, a rather pleasant and 


22 2 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

amusing change from the grave discipline, the 
formal processions of Fontevrault. 

Monsieur de Montaigle turned round at the 
churchyard steps, and there was a sudden silence 
while he said : “ My friends, I shall see you all 
in the court of the chateau this afternoon.’* 

There was a murmur of pleasure, for in his 
hermit life since the Marquise died he had en- 
tirely dropped this old friendly custom, which 
kept up some sort of feudal relationship between 
a noble and his neighbours. They looked after 
him with something like approval, unpopular as 
he had always been, while he and his guests 
slowly crossed the bridge in the white dust, and 
climbed the chestnut-shaded hill to the chateau. 

In the clear light of the afternoon, under the 
old trees, in and out of sunshine and shadow, 
the great walls echoing back music and laughter, 
they danced with all their merry French hearts 
that day. Nobody was left out — even sulky 
Gars-cogne joined in the ring; dark Jeannot, 
the farmer, jumped as high and laughed as loud 
as anybody; all troubles and grievances were 
forgotten. Even the Marquis himself threaded 
the country-dance under Agathe’s lively guid- 
ance; the Saint-Gervais cousins, all smiles, 
danced with anybody who came near ; the visi- 
tors laughed to their hearts’ content, and the 
gayest and richest of Renee’s new friends made 
special choice of the solemn giant Grand-Gui as 
her partner. The young gentlemen flirted quite 


HOW THEY DANCED 


223 


openly with pretty peasant girls, but none of 
them was so much in request as Monsieur Nico. 
He might have had a dozen partners at once, 
and he did his duty like a man, though his eyes 
were always following one young figure about 
the green. The women, old and young, under- 
stood very well ; they forgave him, and liked 
him the better for it, though after all they could 
not quite understand him. 

“But there — there. Monsieur Nico — Made- 
moiselle is not dancing ! Go, my boy — go and 
ask her ! ’’ friendly voices cried in his ear. 

But Nico seemed deaf. He danced diligently, 
pale and grave among the light-hearted com- 
pany ; but he left Mademoiselle Renee to others. 

As the shadows lengthened, more figures, un- 
noticed by many of the dancers, came from 
under the dark archway and took their places 
among them. Even Madame de Saint-Gervais 
was startled when her husband touched her arm, 
and she looked up to see a tall young man, all 
his strong white teeth showing in a broad smile, 
bending to kiss her hand. He was followed by 
two more young men with the same bold and 
dashing air, oddly mixed with extreme formality 
of manners, those manners which young courtiers 
wore like a coat to conceal their arrogance and 
fiercer passions in society. Such characters had 
had a freer outlet in the earlier days of King 
Louis ; now hypocrisy was added to the list of 
Versailles merits. 

Renee had just danced the round, touching 


224 the heiress of the forest 


various hands in turn, mostly rough and toil- 
worn, when fingers of a different make suddenly 
caught and held hers, a plumed hat swept the 
ground, and strange lips touched her hand 
hastily ; then there was a laughing stare under a 
fine wig of curls, and rather a pleasant voice 
speaking — 

‘‘ Bonjour, ma cousine ! Let me have the 
honour — my friends, the Comte de Bellefontaine, 
the Baron de Mancel/' 

There was a rather different light in Renders 
dark eyes, a flush on her cheek, a rather more 
erect holding of her pretty head, as she danced 
on under the eyes of these strangers, who had 
so suddenly brought a breath of the world, the 
Court, all that fairyland of adventure which she 
had dreamed of, into the old-fashioned revels of 
Montaigle. Her cousin Jean : she hardly re- 
membered him, except as a great rude boy she 
used to avoid, a boy whom all the other young 
creatures about the chateau half hated and half 
feared, who could never play in a friendly fashion, 
but would always have his own way ; a boy 
about whom Agathe used to tell her horrid 
stories, of whom TOiselet spoke with scorn, whose 
name Nico never mentioned if he could help it. 

Of course, Renee now perceived, people were 
quite different when they were grown up. In old 
days Jean never took any notice of her, now his 
manners were very polite, and his looks ex- 
pressed an admiration — a little too open, perhaps 
— but still an admiration, a respect, almost a 


HOW THEY DANCED 


225 

devotion ; how they bowed , he and his friends, 
treating her as the great and beautiful young 
lady she was, after all ! It certainly was a fine 
thing to have been at Court, to be properly edu- 
cated, to know how to speak in society ; while 
poor Nico — ah, cruel Renee, had she forgotten 
the garden at Fontevrault? It did not strike 
her then that Nice’s manners were bad, that he 
did not know how to meet her again after long 
years ! But then, perhaps, she had not realised 
her own importance. The convent-bred girl in 
her black gown and slippery cap felt herself 
still a child. Even Nico, it was plain, knew the 
difference now, for he had retired into quite the 
opposite extreme of his first rapture. Nobody 
now could be more stupid, more shy, more cold. 
He seemed to find fault with his little friend, to 
shrink away from her, to criticise her from a 
distance. Where was the admiration that she 
had a right to expect ? Master Nico — there he 
was, yonder among the peasants, dancing as a 
log might have danced if you set it up on end, 
and never, it seemed, sending a look or thought 
towards her. Why could not he — a grown man, 
a soldier — show at least that he liked to see her 
there ; if he could not express himself with the 
air of cousin Jean and his two fine friends. Mon- 
sieur de Bellefontaine and Monsieur de Mancel ! 

And now she took Jean’s hand in the dance, 
and smiled upon him with her dark eyes, looking 
lovelier than ever ; and then suddenly his gaze 
became so ardent that her eyes fell, and Mon- 
p 


226 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


sieur de Mancel whispered something to Mon- 
sieur de Bellefontaine. And when she looked 
up again, Nicolas was passing quite near, and 
his blue eyes, as they met hers, were sad and 
passionate as they had never been before. 

The music played, and the dance went on into 
twilight. To those two or three who thought of 
the past, it seemed that all was forgotten, and 
Monsieur Jean easily triumphant. 


CHAPTER XV 

MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 

“ If it be so/* Grand-Gui growled in his dark 
corner ; then in a louder tone, “ But it shall not 
be so ! I will wring his neck first, or if I let him 
alone, Ga*cogne will do it/* 

Hush ! ** said Agathe quickly. 

In her living-room, within the thick walls of 
the gateway tower, a smoky lamp was burning ; 
and from the narrow slips of windows one could 
just see into a glory of white moonlight which 
flooded the courts of the chateau. The two chil- 
dren lay asleep in the bed against the wall, while 
Chariot’s wife and her brother-in-law discussed 
the affairs of the family. 

Monsieur Jean and his friends had now been 
several days at Montaigle ; long enough for the 
old servants to be convinced that his new Court 
manners were only a thin polish on his original 
brutality; but perhaps it was natural that Made- 
moiselle Ken6e did not realise this ; how indeed 
should she, as the real Jean never appeared in 
her presence ! The company of her cousin and 
his friends seemed anything but disagreeable to 
her ; and sad old Montaigle was full of noise 


228 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


and gaiety. The young people amused them- 
selves well together, the elders looking on. 
Baudouin the steward had told Agathe that very 
day that the understanding between the Marquis 
and his cousins was now complete, that Made- 
moiselle would this evening be called upon to 
give her consent, and that the marriage would 
take place in a week or two. 

What did Monsieur Nico think of it all ? 
Agathe wondered. There was no knowing. He 
kept aloof as far as he could from the amuse- 
ments of the others, spent long days in the forest 
with Grand-Gui and Gars-cogne, whose silent 
ways suited his mood. No one could fail to 
notice that his manners with Mademoiselle and 
her friends were of the stiffest. As to Jean de 
Vassy and himself, their faces darkened when 
their eyes met; but they never spoke to each 
other. 

“ If I were you, I should pick a quarrel with 
that boy and finish him,'* said the lively Baron 
de Mancel to his friend Jean. “ He looks inso- 
lent ; he may do you a mischief." 

“ I am not such a fool," answered de Vassy. 
“ He can do me no harm, and the old father is 
fond of him. Some day, perhaps, I may show 
him his place, but not now." 

That evening, after dinner, they had been 
dancing in the hall, and Jean, for the first time, 
had had a few words alone with his cousin ; ar- 
ranged for him by his mother, who watched 
anxiously in the background. He stammered 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 


229 


out a few broad compliments. It was not easy, 
he found, to say things to this untrained girl 
which had pleased various ladies at Versailles. 
There was something of criticism in the look 
with which she regarded him ; and he drew back, 
a little nonplussed and rather angry. Well! he 
would teach her by-and-by to be thankful for a 
word of kindness. She was ignorant, with her 
small scornful airs, and neither so pretty nor so 
amusing as he had thought at first; a little black- 
eyed, unfledged creature from the convent, whom 
one must marry, of course, but whom no man of 
the world would trouble himself about for any 
other reason. Bellefontaine admired her, to be 
sure, talked of her distinction and the rest of it. 
Bellefontaine had queer notions ; his taste and 
Jean’s did not always agree. But the chateau, 
the estates, the diamonds, the name — about these, 
Renee’s attributes, there could not be two opinions. 

A message had been brought to Renee, before 
the dancing was over, that her father wished to 
see her in his library in half an hour’s time. In 
the meanwhile, a strange sense of loneliness, a 
longing to speak to some one she could trust, a 
half-defined dread of all the gay company that 
surrounded her, had seized on Renee ; she slipped 
from the hall, hurried down through the shadows 
to the gate-tower, climbed the narrow stairs to 
Agathe’s abode, and stood rustling in pale satin, 
with strings of pearls round her neck and twisted 
in her hair, on the threshold of the dark little room. 

Grand-Gui’s threats were silenced just in time. 


230 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


He and Agathe stared eagerly at their young 
mistress, he rising to his full height, grim and 
speechless, in the smoky corner. In another 
moment Agathe broke into an eager chatter of 
welcome. 

‘‘Yes, I was tired of dancing,’’ Renee said. 
“ I was hot, it is cool in the moonlight, and I 
wanted to know if your little Marie is better, 
Agathe. Yesterday you told me she was 
coughing.” 

Yes, the little angel was well and sleeping 
peacefully. Mademoiselle Renee advanced and 
peeped at the children. Then she turned and 
looked at her two faithful ones. 

“ Agathe, do you ever feel that you would like 
to run away ?” she said. 

“ Never, mademoiselle.” 

“ Ah ! well, I am discontented, not happy like 
you. I cannot think why I am here. At Fon- 
tevrault we were all so safe; and here — I don’t 
know, I can’t tell — people seem to mean more 
than they say, though they say too much some- 
times — some people, you know. How will it all 
end, I wonder ! I would promise a reward to 
any one who would tell me.” 

“ If we only knew what mademoiselle means,” 
murmured Agathe, staring at her. 

“ Oh, you can’t help, my poor Agathe. One 
must live one’s life — do one’s duty, as my aunt 
de Rochechouart would say. My father has sent 
for me, I am to be with him in half an hour. 
What has he got to say ? ” 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 


231 


“ Mademoiselle does not know ? ” 

Agathe started and exclaimed. Grand-Gui 
strode from his corner, knelt before his little lady 
and kissed her hand with devotion, then waited 
for an answer. 

“ How should I know, Grand-Gui ? ” Renee 
said, looking down into the dark imploring face. 
“If you will tell me, I shall owe you some- 
thing. At any rate I shall have the truth.” 

“ Dear lady, every one knows, except yourself. 
Yes, I will tell you, and then, if you like, I will 
carry you away through the forest to Fontevrault. 
It would not be the first time ” 

“Hush, hush, Gui, are you mad?” whispered 
Agathe. 

But her mistress silenced her imperiously. 
“Go on,” she said to the forester. “First, the 
truth — and then I will give you your orders.” 

“ It is decided,” said Grand-Gui, still kneeling, 
“ that Mademoiselle marries Monsieur le Vicomte. 
Every one knows it, except herself. And the 
marriage will be soon. That is what Monsieur 
le Marquis has to say.” 

“ Monsieur le Vicomte ! ” Ren^e repeated. 
She smiled, and blushed a little, while the two 
old servants stared in something like terror. 
“Well, well ! every one must marry somebody,’ 
she said. “ He has very white teeth.” 

“ The teeth of a wild beast, yes, mademoiselle.” 

“ My good man, you are prejudiced.” 

“Ask Monsieur Nico what bethinks of him ! 
cried Grand-Gui in despair. 


232 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“Es-tu b^te, Gui! ” gasped Agathe. 

‘‘ Oh ! ” Mademoiselle Renee shrugged her 
shoulders, with a scornful little toss of her head. 
“ Come now, tell me — you are safe with me, both 
of you — why do you hate Monsieur le Vicomte ? 
He is certainly more agreeable than when he 
was younger, he is not ugly, he is of our family, 
and . . . if it is the wish of the family — 

well, what would you say if I became a nun at 
Fontevrault ? If I do not marry, that must be the 
end of it. My aunt tells me I ought to marry, 
she herself has tried to arrange it. Come, will it 
not be better for Montaigle — for all of you — 
if I ?” 

‘‘ Mademoiselle,’* said Grand-Gui suddenly — 
“ it would be impossible for Madame 1’ Abbesse 
to consent to this marriage. Madame la Marquise 
forbade it with her dying breath.** 

The girl stood still, looking at him silently. 
All colour had fled, and her clear skin was even 
paler than usual. Grand-Gui saw that he had 
touched the right chord at last ; the usually dumb 
creature, kneeling there at the girl’s feet, broke 
out into eloquence, and as he talked, the whole 
scene came back to her from half-forgotten child- 
ish days ; she felt the thin hot hand caressing 
her brow and hair, she heard the weak voice 
from the pillow, saying things she could not 
understand. This thing, then, was forbidden by 
her dying mother. Was this the secret cause of 
a certain unreasoning antipathy, for which she 
had been half angry with herself, and against 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 


233 


which she had struggled a little whenever her 
tall, polite, apparently good-natured cousin came 
near ? “ I myself, with God’s permission, will 

return to earth to prevent it.” Had her mother’s 
voice whispered in her ear, her mother’s in- 
visible hand been stretched between Jean and 
her? 

Ren^e was a clear-headed young creature, not 
given to mysticism, rather inclined to believe in 
people’s outside show. Why, she wondered, had 
her mother laid this restraining hand on her 
future ? She could not have known much of 
Jean ; he was almost a boy. And then — her 
aunt knew all this, why had she not told her, 
warned her? Was it the King’s letter ? Made- 
moiselle de Montaigle said very proudly to her- 
self that neither King, father nor aunt would 
marry her against her own will. 

But what wonderful stories Grand-Gui was 
telling now ! He was certainly putting the necks 
of his whole family under the feet of a possibly 
future Vicomtesse de Vassy. First, stories of 
Jean’s young days, his falseness, his cruelties, 
his lies and cowardlinesses, the well-earned 
hatred of a whole country-side for an evil- 
hearted, brutal- mannered, callously selfish young 
man ; ending with his unprovoked ill-treatment 
of rOiselet, its scene and circumstances. Then, 
the Montaigle ghost story with its material ex- 
planation. Joli-gars figuring in the corridors; 
Grand-Gui’s own long arms carrying the little 
lady away into the forest, Agathe having care- 


234 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


fully drugged her evening milk ; Monsieur Nico 
finding her 

“ I remember all that/' Renee broke in im- 
patiently. “ But how did you come to play such 
tricks — how dared you ! " and she laughed. 

'‘We would have dared more than that for 
Madame la Marquise," said Grand-Gui. “ And 
I have now dared to trust our necks to Made- 
moiselle. No one but ourselves knows the story, 
except Madame FAbbesse. L’Oiselet told her." 

" Poor FOiselet ! " the girl said to herself. 
“ Come with me, Agathe," she added after a 
moment. "I must go first to the chapel, and 
then to my father." 

" Mademoiselle ! " Grand-Gui still knelt, im- 
ploring something. He could not read his young 
mistress's heart : he did not know if she was 
angry. Agathe stood by, all stiffened up with 
fear and consternation. There was a kind of 
hurried intensity in the girl's face and manner 
which might mean anything. 

" Poor friend ! " Renee said. She bent for a 
moment towards her faithful servant, and her 
fingers touched the brown, furrowed brow. “ My 
mother had indeed good brothers," she said. “ I 
thank you for all you have told me." 

It was a moment before she could rescue her 
hand, crushed hard against the rough lips of the 
forester. 

There was no light in the chapel, except from 
the dim lamp that burned always before the 
altar. Agathe followed her young mistress in, 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 


235 


and knelt behind her there. Renee looked up 
at the altar, and down at the stone beneath 
which her mother lay. Ah, would she really 
protect her child at this crisis ! How strong the 
world was, pressing in on all sides ! What power 
they had, that crowd from Versailles, fierce, 
greedy, cold-hearted behind their smiles ! And 
not one friend of her own rank to take a lonely 
girl’s part against them all. Nico! she could 
hardly think of him now without an angry little 
pain at her heart. He might at least behave 
like the brother she had always called him. How 
had she offended him ? 

But these questions were unprofitable, pushing 
themselves as they did into the most sacred 
places ; and the time was flying. In a few 
minutes more the Marquis’s young daughter 
was hurrying, a white vision in the moonlight, 
up the tower stairs that led to his library. She 
was followed at a distance by Agathe and 
Grand-Gui, but they lingered below. On the 
landing of the stairs, in the light that poured in 
through a loop-hole window, stood the very 
Nico like a sentinel, like a young St. George or 
St. Michael on guard, fair and grave, his straight 
brow frowning and his face hard set, as if to 
bear coming pain. He bowed, but did not speak, 
as Renee came near, then took the lamp from 
her hand and set it on the window-sill. Evi- 
dently he meant her to pass on straight into her 
father’s room ; but he reckoned without his old 
playfellow. They had hardly spoken to each 


236 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


other since that day when he found her sitting 
in the tree, but it had not occurred to him that 
she was hurt by his silence. With so much to 
interest her, why should she think of him at all ? 

Now his eyes fell before hers, first reproachful 
then laughing, though they looked suspiciously 
wet. 

“Well, monsieur,'' she said, very low, “have 
you no compliment for me ? " 

“My best respects, mademoiselle," he said, 
and bowed again. 

“You have the air of a martyr ! " Rende mur- 
mured critically. 

She had come close up to him, and suddenly 
laid her two hands on his shoulders. He stepped 
backwards with a little cry, and caught her 
wrists. There they stood, and for a whole 
minute could have heard their hearts beat ; 
alone in the world, they two, with the great 
walls closing them in, and all the powers of 
earth against them. 

“ Nico, why are you so unkind ?" the girl said 
at last, under her breath. He answered with a 
question — “ Ah ! You don't understand me r " 
and then flushed up as if even these words were 
treason. 

“ Think how alone I am ! " she went on 
quickly. “ How am I to save myself ? I know 
now that my mother forbade it, but if not he, it 
will be somebody else. Nico, there is only one 
way " 

“ What — what, Ren6e P " 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 237 


“ I must go back to Fontevrault and be a nun. 
Then I shall never, never see you again — do you 
hear?” 

One must die some day — and there are 
things worse than death! Yes, anything is 
better ” 

“ Must I do that, then ? Tell me.” 

“ Renee I ” 

There was a small bent figure standing in the 
doorway of the Marquis’s room, and her name 
was thrice repeated before she heard it, waiting 
for Nico’s answer with a passionate eagerness 
new to her young nature. In the confusion of 
her thoughts now, one thing alone seemed really 
terrible : a final parting with Nice. The talk of 
other girls had enlightened her on the real, 
practical aspect of a marriage in society. It 
meant freedom, she knew, of a kind ; yes, of a 
kind ; but this lurid light had not shone far into 
her heart, still innocent and young. To her aunt 
de Rochechouart, to Nico himself, she knew by 
instinct, such talk would have been odious. Must 
it then end in the cloister — or what ? 

Her father’s voice broke in upon them, and 
saved Nico from an answer almost impossible to 
be given. 

“ Come in, Renee,” said the Marquis. His 
voice was not angry, only very weary and sad. 
“ Come in, you also, Nicolas,” he added after an 
instant. 

As they followed him into the dimly-lit depths 
of the library, Renee with a quick movement 


238 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


slipped her hand into her friend's. He held it 
till the Marquis sat down in the great chair, 
and beckoned his daughter near him. Nicolas 
remained standing at the end of the table, and 
looked at the brilliant young figure ; the folds of 
shining satin, the soft light of the pearls, the 
grace of the small head, now slightly bent in 
her father's presence. To Nicolas the moment 
was tragical enough, and he wondered that 
Renee could smile, for he was not vain enough 
to set down that sweet curl of the pretty mouth 
to his own credit. 

‘‘ Does my daughter know why I have sent 
for her ? " said the Marquis. 

“ Yes, father,” she answered, every word 
distinct and clear. ‘‘ You wish me to give my 
consent to a marriage with Jean de Vassy.” 

wish nothing of the kind," her father 
answered, with equal deliberation. ‘‘ I ask, are 
you ready to marry your cousin ? Evidently you 
are prepared — you know all that I can tell you. 
Ever since the death of your brothers the ques- 
tion of your future has been the torment of my 
life. I will not deny that this marriage with 
your cousin always seemed to me plainly pointed 
out by Providence till I began to suspect that I 
was mistaken. I have argued out the matter 
more than once, in this very room, with myself 
and others. But even if my own mind was 
changed, I could not quite resist the influence of 
my whole family, and lately of the King. I am 
incurably sick, sick at heart, and shall not live 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 


239 


long. I shall not have done my duty, if your 
future is not settled before I die, Madame de 
Fontevrault will grant me that at least, and she 
would hardly thank me he broke off, seem- 

ing to check himself suddenly. 

“ You mean, monsieur, that with your good- 
will or against it, I must marry him ? 

“ No, I do not mean that. Things have gone 
so far that I cannot now draw back. For long I 
held to my plan in defiance of earth and heaven ; 
and in spite of all, I cannot forswear myself 
now.'" He looked down, and muttered under 
his breath, “ If she knows — they judge fairly — 
she will be just to me." 

Renee stood motionless. Knowing so little 
of her father she was entirely at a loss to under- 
stand him. A great pity for him, however, rose 
in her heart ; and her face was grave enough 
now as she gazed upon him. 

“ Do not distress yourself," she said at last. 
“ Your daughter must of course obey you." 

Nicolas started so violently that the table 
shook between them. She turned her head and 
looked towards him in the flickering candle- 
light ; then motioned with her hand towards the 
bent, crushed figure in the chair. Strange words 
came from it ; the two young people stood like 
statues, listening. 

“ I do not say, obey me. I ask, are you ready 
to marry your cousin ? " 

“ But if you have given your word — if I can- 
not say No — " the girl stammered. She paused 


240 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


then went on with a slight effort, “If your 
honour is engaged, then I have only to say that 
I am your daughter, monsieur/’ 

The Marquis de Montaigle was very seldom 
seen to smile, but he smiled now, his worn stiff 
face relaxing suddenly. 

“ You are a Montaigle,” he said. “ I always 
thought so. You understand me, you know my 
motives ; you see all the reasons that made me 
plan this marriage. Yes indeed, you are more 
reasonable than Madame de Fontevrault, and I 
thank you, child. But you have two parents, 
remember, and though one is in Paradise, she 
has already shown us that her wishes are not to 
be disregarded. Renee, you must have heard 
the story — you know it was your dead mother 
who prevented you from being carried away by 
my cousins and brought up as Jean’s future wife 
at Versailles. I was never superstitious: but 
that story cannot be explained. Nicolas found 
you — but you have heard all this — indeed, you 
probably remember.” 

“ I know the story,” Renee said, looking 
down. “ But my mother’s words, when she was 
dying — I have heard of them too.” 

“ In my ears they sound for ever,” the Marquis 
said ; “ and more clearly, now that I hope soon 
to see that saint again, if God gives my poor 
soul so much grace. But to return to the imme- 
diate subject — your marriage. No, my child, I 
have bound myself to consent, but not you. My 
cousins know that very well. I told them that 


MONSIEUR LE MARQUIS 


your own inclination should decide, and I told 
the same to Madame de Fontevrault. Thus, I 
think, your mother will be contented. What 
then do you think of Jean de Vassy P For the 
third time, are you ready to marry him ? '' 

“ One question on my side,’' the girl said 
quickly. “ What do you think of him yourself, 
monsieur ? ” 

“ I detest him,” the Marquis answered coolly. 
“ As a boy I despised him — as a man, I find him 
insupportable. And you ? ” 

‘‘ And yet, monsieur, you could think of the 

possibility broke in the deep young voice 

of Nicolas. 

“ My poor boy, Jean is the only young man of 
the house of Montaigle,” the Marquis replied 
quietly. “ Now, Renee, your answer.” 

It is this,” the girl said. “ If my mother had 
wished it, if your honour had been concerned in 
it, I would have married him, for my aunt says 
one must do one’s duty — ^but otherwise. No. A 
thousand times No, my dear father. Look at me : 
I am kneeling at your feet. Let me go back to 
Fontevrault, take the veil, if I am worthy of it, 
and leave all your possessions to Jean, if you 
please. Then every one will be satisfied.” 

“No, no,” the old man said, raising himself 
suddenly upright. “ Montaigle is yours — yours 
— and Madame I’Abbesse is too honourable. Are 
there no other men in France, child, that you 
should bury yourself in a convent ? I will not 
hear of such a sacrifice.” 

Q 


242 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Father ! There is only one/' 

Did he hear her ? she never knew. 

He fell back rather suddenly, sinking down in 
his chair ; and with one trembling hand, while 
she held the other, he pointed across the room. 

‘‘ Diane — Diane, you have your way. But 
these poor children — " he cried out. 

Both Nicolas and Renee turned awestruck 
eyes in the same direction. 

From a narrow, uncurtained window deep in 
the wall, there fell on the opposite wall and floor 
a long patch of ghostly moonlight, which indeed, 
to eyes and a brain weakened by sickness, might 
have been the transparent, spiritualised form of 
a woman. Certainly it was moonlight ; but Nico- 
las d'Aumont always believed in his heart that 
his guardian saw, at that supreme moment, more 
than their eyes could see. After one glance he 
turned back towards the crouching figure in the 
chair, and in another moment he was supporting 
Monsieur de Montaigle tenderly in his arms. 

“Renee — call somebody, send somebody — 
your father is ill — and dearest, do not come 
back, I implore you ! " 

For he saw that all was over ; another trh 
haut et puissant seigneur had folio-wed in the 
long Montaigle line. 


CHAPTER XVI 


FUNERAL BELLS 

So Renee came to her own. 

Again the air was full of funeral bells, and 
many distant cousins and neighbours came to 
Montaigle to pay the last honours to the Mar- 
quis Mathieu. The Bishop of the diocese praised 
his many virtues in a long discourse which was 
compared to those of the great Bishop of Meaux. 
The peasants were indifferent ; they had never 
loved him, and bore several special grudges 
against him ; but neither did they love the 
more actively disagreeable rule of his Saint- 
Gervais cousins, who had not troubled them- 
selves to gain much popularity outside the 
chateau itself. 

While the Marquis lay in state in the great 
room where Madame Diane died, his watchers, 
full of superstitious recollections, trembling at 
every sound and shadow, the rest of the house 
was shut up in silent mourning. Ren^e hardly 
left her room : her cousin Alexandre took on 
himself the management of everything, and 
neither he nor his wife intruded themselves on 
the young girl, whose sorrow was very real. 


244 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


Those last few moments with her father, their 
perfect understanding as to her marriage with 
Jean, her conviction that he loved Nico almost 
as a son, were a recollection of mixed happiness 
and pain. It seemed hard that he should have 
died just then, leaving her, so young, in a world 
not indulgent to the fancies of girls. And who 
was her guardian ? No one knew, till the Mar- 
quis’s notary should read his will after the funeral. 
But the Comte de Saint-Gervais, no doubt. He 
had himself no uneasiness on the subject. He 
gave orders as if he, or his son, was already the 
master of Montaigle. Renee heard of this 
through Agathe, and was indignant ; yet her 
father’s known loyalty to his family made her 
fear that her cousin was justified. 

Most of the younger guests had at once left 
the chateau. Nicolas d’Aumont of course re- 
mained, as one of the family ; but through those 
sad days Renee saw nothing of him. She sus- 
pected it to be his doing, however, that Agathe 
waited upon her constantly in place of Madame 
de Saint-Gervais’s women, and that Grand-Gui 
slept every night on the staircase leading to her 
room. The Comte and Baudouin were angry at 
this, and the steward talked of ordering the 
fellow back to his work in the forest ; but after 
all, the Comte shrugged his shoulders, 

“ Let him alone,” he said. “ Let them play 
at their little precautions; the game is in our 
hands now, Baudouin. Monsieur le Chevalier’s 
orders, you think ? Let him amuse himself.” 


FUNERAL BELLS 


245 


Baudouin was not very sorry to obey. The 
forester might be ordered off, but would he go ? 
and if not, who would make him ? 

Rente’s first thought after her father's death 
was to send a letter to Madame de Fontevrault. 
There must be her refuge. Perhaps not always, 
for she did not forget that the Abbess, like her 
father, had treated that idea as impossible. But 
whoever her guardian might be, she would surely 
be permitted to go there during the months of 
mourning. Even the Saint- Gervais, when they 
knew her resolution as to the marriage, could 
hardly force her to remain with them. So Nico- 
las’s groom rode off with the letter, and no one 
interfered. In consequence, Madame de Fonte- 
vrault sent her chapelaine and future successor, 
Madame Louise de Rochechouart de Mortemart, 
with two nuns, to carry consolation to Ren6e 
and to represent herself at the Marquis’s funeral. 
She was ill, and could not leave her couch, with 
one of the painful rheumatic attacks which 
troubled her later years. 

The joy of welcoming the M^re de Mortemart, 
young, loving, wise and gentle, so long her own 
little mother at the convent, was great enough 
to make Renee forget all the anxieties that beset 
her. She was no longer alone ; it was as if her 
guardian angel had come in human form to pro- 
tect her, and she listened patiently to all the 
spiritual comfort, all the excellent advice for 
this world, which her aunt de Rochechouart sent 
her by this means. Of course, for the present, 


246 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


unless some higher authority intervened, she 
must come to Fontevrault ; but she must not 
forget, in studying her own peace, that miles of 
country and hundreds of souls were now placed 
in her hands as mistress of Montaigle. She must 
think of their good even more than of her own. 
Such responsibilities could not be laid down in a 
cloister. As soon as a suitable husband could 
be found, she must marry. Madame de Fonte- 
vrault had already written again to her brother, 
the Due de Vivonne, a person of such large ac- 
quaintance in Court and country. It was difficult, 
of course, to find Mademoiselle de Montaigle’s 
equal in fortune and position, but it must be 
done ; it could and should be done. The M^re 
de Mortemart delivered these messages faith- 
fully, while the tears ran down Rente’s face like 
rain. 

“ Ah, mother,” she said, “ it is you who tell 
me all this — you, who would never have given 
your life to such things ; you, in that peaceful 
Paradise, you c ome and tell me that I must stay 
outside.^' 

“Dear,” said Louise,’^ “the good God did not 
make me heiress of all the Mortemarts ! ” 

They were sitting together in the twilight. 
The windows were open, and far down in the 
garden the nightingales were singing. Down 
there the little Marquis used to pace for hours, 
his hands clasped behind him, his bent brows 
furrowed with thought. Now he lay quite still 
in the great room on the other side, walls hung 


FUNERAL BELLS 


247 


with black and silver, daylight shut out, tall 
wax candles burning round his coffin. 

Ren6e had not yet told her cousin of the last 
talk with her father ; she could hardly bear to 
speak of it, and some new shyness made it diffi- 
cult to mention Nico*s name. But now she felt 
that the Mere de Mortemart must know every- 
thing — the danger she had half escaped, the too 
great probability of finding herself under Saint- 
Gervais authority. 

“You know,'* she began, hesitating a little, 
“ you know, mother, my family have a plan for 
me 

A sudden stifled noise in the anteroom made 
her catch her breath and pause. She had a 
guard out there. L'Oiselet had prayed so hard 
to go to his little lady, to see his old master once 
more, that Madame de Fontevrault had sent him 
to Montaigle in attendance on the nuns. He 
had met again gladly his old friends the foresters 
and Agathe, the former conspirators; he had had 
a grasp of the hand from Monsieur Nico ; and 
had once more brought his homage and his music 
to the feet of Mademoiselle. He did his best to 
avoid the rest of the household, for Baudouin 
scowled upon him, and Monsieur Jean, as wicked 
as ever and much older and wiser, was an object 
of fear and hatred to his former victim. 

L’Oiselet was now sitting on a stool near the 
outer door of Mademoiselle Rente's apartment. 
Flis violin lay on his arm and he touched it now 
and then, holding as it were a little talk with it 


248 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


in the twilight. Very pale in his black garments, 
his great spiritual eyes wide open, his clustering 
yellow locks streaming more thickly than ever, 
he looked like one of Carpaccio’s boy musicians 
in attendance on Our Lady. 

A rustle, a slight knock, and the door flew 
open. The Comtesse de Saint-Gervais in deep 
mourning, quick and abrupt in her movements, 
swept into the room. 

“ Mademoiselle is there ? ” she said ; then 
sharply, “ Why, it is the old dwarf ! What are 
you doing here, little toad ? ” 

“ Madame,’’ murmured I’Oiselet, “ I came with 
the ladies from Fontevrault.” 

“Ah! I remember. You will go back with 
them then, and the sooner the better. Is Made- 
moiselle alone ? But it does not matter. An- 
nounce me.” 

L’Oiselet obeyed, and returned sadly to his 
place by the door. Certainly Madame la Com- 
tesse spoke as if she was mistress of everything, 
and from what his friends had told him, he 
feared she had a right to do so. 

But her manner changed completely when she 
spoke to Renee and to Madame de Mortemart. 
It was all softness and kindness ; and indeed, 
since she brought the young girl from Fonte- 
vrault, she had been unfailingly kind to her. 
Now she came full of sympathy to assure Ren4e 
how constantly she had thought of her through 
these painful days, so full of business and anxiety 
that she had not yet found time for a real and 


FUNERAL BELLS 


249 


affectionate talk with her. And now, “I thought 
I might find you alone, dear child, on this sad 
evening, and my heart longed to be with you, to 
comfort you. It is true sympathy, for you know 
very well that my husband and I were your 
honoured father’s nearest and dearest relations 
and friends. We knew that noble, reserved 
nature as no one else knew it. His most secret 
wishes and intentions were not hidden from us : 
we took counsel together to the last. We shall 
never cease to regret not being there to receive 
his last commands. You, however, dear Ren4e 
Pardon, madame, if I treat you as an in- 
timate friend. Madame I’Abbesse would wish 
it, I know.’' 

Louise de Rochechouart bowed gravely. 

“ Merci, madame, you are most amiable. You, 
dear Ren^e, received those last words which ” 

‘‘ Nico and I,” Renee said. 

She lifted her pale face, and though she spoke 
low and gently, there was a curious warning 
light in the depths of her dark eyes. The faintest 
shadow of annoyance clouded her cousin’s look 
for an instant, but passed almost before it was 
visible. 

“ Most fortunate, yes,” she said rather quickly. 
“You were not alone, my poor child, and we 
ought to rejoice, for the shock would have been 
terrible. As it was, indeed — but I am compelled 
to ask an important question. Believe me, no- 
thing less than necessity would make me intrude 
thus on your grief — but it is in your own interest. 


250 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Your father had time, had he not, to make the 
future clear to you — to speak, in short, of his 
arrangements for your marriage ? 

Madame de Saint-Gervais trembled a little 
with excitement. Her bright eyes, fixed on the 
girl, seemed to read the very thoughts in her 
heart, and in spite of herself her colour deepened 
as she waited for an answer. Madame de Morte- 
mart listened in equal anxiety of another kind : 
what was this that Renee had not told her ? The 
old intrigue that her aunt had feared — was it 
then alive and formidable ? 

Madame,’’ said Renee, “ there can be no 
question of my marriage now f ” 

“ My dear, do not fence with me — it is quite 
unnecessary, in the case of your best friend,” said 
the Comtesse patiently, but the sweetness in her 
voice was a little exaggerated. “ Come, let us 
be plain with each other. There is no question, 
of course, of any immediate marriage. Let me 
put my question more clearly. Did your father 
tell you, Ren^e, that he had finally given his 
consent to the marriage which both he and we 
had planned for so many years — this marriage 
which will unite the two branches of the family 
and make it one o*f the greatest in France ? I was 
writing the other day to Madame la Marquise de 
Maintenon, and I was glad to assure her, in 
speaking of this marriage, that it was what all 
religious and domestic persons must wish, a mar- 
riage of inclination. My son admires his sweet 
cousin ; and I think, from what I have seen during 


FUNERAL BELLS 


251 


the last few weeks, that he is not altogether dis- 
pleasing to her. Dear Renee, I see by your face 
that all this is no news to you. Come and em- 
brace me, child ! You will not find me such a 
bad mother, I assure you, ma belle ! ’’ 

There were actual tears in the Comtesse's eyes 
as she stretched out her arms to the girl, who 
sat looking down, as pale as marble, and did not 
move or utter a word. The nun, a little apart, 
watched them both in anxious silence. Madame 
de Saint-Gervais bit her lips, flushed and paled ; 
her hands dropped, and at last she said, ‘‘ What 
does this mean ? 

‘‘ Pardon me, madame, but is it not too soon 

to expect interposed the M^re de Morte- 

mart. 

“ I think not, madame. These are not matters 
of childish sentiment. It is necessary that we, 
her guardians, should know whether Made- 
moiselle de Montaigle has received her father’s 
commands. She will obey them, of course ; but 
we must know that she is not in the dark about 
them.” 

“Who is my guardian?^’ said Ren4e, sud- 
denly looking up. 

“My dear” — the Comtesse tried to smile — 
“ for such a young girl you are curiously stiff- 
necked. Your cousin Saint-Gervais is your guar- 
dian. If you do not acknowledge my right to 
speak for him, send the dwarf to fetch him here. 
You will perhaps listen to him more courteously 
than to me.” 


252 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Forgive me, I do not wish to be discourteous. 
As to my guardian, no one knows yet who he 
may be. My fathers will decides that, I under- 
stand.** 

Ren6e got up, moved to the window, and stood 
there erect against the clear evening sky. 

‘‘You really make me impatient, with your 
splitting of straws. They teach argument at the 
Abbey of Fontevrault, I suppose,*’ said the 
Comtesse with a slight laugh. “ Be reasonable. 
What other guardian is possible for you ? Believe 
me, I knew your father*s mind. And as to the 
other matter — why do you pretend to be ignorant 
of it?** 

“ Madame, I pretend nothing. Yes, my dear 
father told me of that plan — made so long ago 
— and I have heard, too, my mother’s opinion 
of it.*’ 

There was dead silence for a moment or two. 

“ Mischief-makers were sure to make use of 
that,** said Madame de Saint-Gervais with a side 
glance at the M^re de Mortemart. “ Your father 
was not foolish enough to be influenced by de- 
lirious cries on a death-bed. I was present, 
remember. Your poor mother was not in her 
right mind, whatever interested persons may 
have told you. Take my advice, and think no 
more of that old story.*’ 

Ren6e*s dark eyes flashed with something — 
could it be laughter ? 

“Et puis — the ghost-story, madame?*’ she 
said very low. 


FUNERAL BELLS 


253 


Madame de Saint-Gervais hastily crossed her- 
self. 

“Ah, that I cannot explain,’’ she said. “ My 
husband has always suspected a trick. How- 
ever, let us leave that subject — let the past take 
care of itself. If these things did not influence 
your father, how do they concern any one 
else?” 

“ Madame, they influenced him so far that he 
told me I was free to refuse this marriage that 
you press upon me. He told me that though he 
was himself bound in honour to consent, he had 
made it a condition that no force should be used 
with me. He asked me what was my wish, and 
I answered him. I told him I would not marry 
my cousin. I begged him to allow me to go 
back to Fontevrault.” 

“Ah, that\ believe ! ” cried Madame de Saint- 
Gervais furiously. “ That I might have ex- 
pected, after these years of influence ! A very 
happy plan for making Fontevrault the richest 
abbey in France. But it will fail — I assure you, 
it will fail. Your guardian will have something 
to say. He will appeal to the King, who no 
longer — no longer, remember — is under Morte- 
mart authority.” 

“Madame, will you kindly remember ” 

the M^re Louise stood up in her turn, and the 
little Comtesse instantly collected herself. 

“Pardon me,” she said. “You personally 
are incapable of these intrigues.” 

Merci — but I cannot hear the word ‘intrigue ’ 


254 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


mentioned in connection with my Superior. As 
to other insults 

‘‘ Ah, bah ! I apologise, madame. I am 
naturally rather angry. This wrong-headed 
girl — Mademoiselle, do not flatter yourself that 
the last word has been said. Who has ever 
heard of a child of sixteen arranging her whole 
life to please herself — refusing the marriage that 
all her relations had decided on ever since she 
was born ! It is a simple absurdity. On think- 
ing it over, I am not inclined to believe that your 
father showed such weakness — played us false in 
such a fashion. We knew it was a mere form 
when something was said about your inclina- 
tions. What business has a young girl with in- 
clinations of her own ? What ! are your childish 
fancies to affect great estates and a great family r 
Impossible ! Ridiculous ! But I do not believe 
a word of it. Your father never said it. With 
his detestation of all that bore the name of 
Mortemart — pardon, madame, but I am speaking 
the plain truth to this child — was he likely to 
throw you into their arms ? You have invented 
this nonsense, Renee; but it will do you no 
good. Take my warning ; your silly fancies will 
alter nothing — nothing.’' 

“ I did not learn to tell lies at the Abbey,” 
Rende said, and her air was so proud and stately 
that the Comtesse seemed to shrink before her. 
“ But if you do not believe me, madame — if you 
want a witness, ask Nicolas d’Aumont. He was 
there and heard all.’' 


FUNERAL BELLS 


255 


Her cousin did not now say, ‘‘ most fortunate ; 
she laughed, such a bitter and evil laugh that 
the M^re de Mortem art gazed in horror. 

“And no guardian of mine need fear,” the 
girl went on, “that Fontevrault will receive me 
and my possessions. Yes, if I could take my 
own way, I would give myself and all I have for 
such a life of peace. But neither my father 
nor my aunt de Rochechouart would consent to 
that. I shall marry some day, I suppose, if I 
must ; but I will take care that my marriage is 
good for Montaigle and for me.” 

“ Really ! I congratulate you,” said Madame 
de Saint-Gervais. “And now let me suggest 
something. A person of your authority and 
power need not wait till an equal asks her in 
marriage. Like a queen, she can throw the 
handkerchief to whom she will — the lower the 
better, that he may not presume on his position. 
Why should not Mademoiselle de Montaigle, 
for instance, choose something as small as the 
Chevalier d’Aumont, an officer of dragoons, 
whose mother was — no one knows who ! ” 

“ Why not, indeed ! ” Renee said, her dark 
eyes blazing. “ His mother was at least a happy 
woman, if his father was like him.” 

“ Come, this is too much ! ” cried the Comtesse. 
“ I must leave you ; this agitation is too great 
for me, and the shock of finding nothing but 
cold-hearted ingratitude in the child I have all 
her life loved and treated as a daughter. But, I 
say again, do not flatter yourself, mademoiselle. 


256 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Your friends are not in power. My husband 
can bring pressure to bear upon his ward which 
is quite beyond your imagination. You are not 
a queen or a princess, after all ; you are a helpless 
young girl in the hands of your family. Come, 
do you really imagine that your refusal settles 
the matter ? Ah ! we shall see.” 

She flew out of the room like a creature pos- 
sessed. L’Oiselet, white as death with the ex- 
citement of all he had heard — for the door had 
been ajar behind its hangings — had just time to 
scramble to his feet and to open the outer door. 

Renee and the M^re Louise were left looking 
at each other. 

My Renee,” the nun said, trembling a little, 
“ you should not have answered so. It was not 
maidenly. Her insolence could not hurt Mon- 
sieur d’Aumont, and you should not have given 
her an excuse for saying that you feel any pre- 
ference. The provocation, I know, was terrible, 
my poor child ! ” 

‘‘ But I do, and they may all know it,” Renee 
cried out. “ I love him, and he loves me, my 
little Nico ! Oh, mother! mother! ” 

“ Hush, hush, you shock me ! ” exclaimed the 
M6re de Mortemart ; but a head of silky curls 
was hidden in her draperies, and she herself 
was young. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A STARTLING WILL 

All Montaigle was breathless with expecta- 
tion. Even the most ignorant peasant under- 
stood that his future depended in great measure 
on the will of the master who had been laid to 
sleep that day within the chapel walls, with 
solemn music and ceremony. When the funeral 
feast was over, and the less intimate guests had 
left the chateau, the people stood in groups, that 
lovely summer evening, about the gateways, on 
the chestnut-shaded hill from the bridge. Under 
the wild music of the bells, clanging out the 
funeral chime, the people chattered and won- 
dered. Baudouin came down and tried to drive 
them away, speaking very roughly, with a stick 
in his hand ; he, for his part, felt his authority 
assured. Monsieur le Comte and Monsieur le 
Vicomte could not do without him, who knew 
the history of every man, woman, and child on 
the estates, and had all the accounts at his 
fingers’ ends. 

But Gars-cogne the forester was there too, and 
he also had a stick, and when the steward came 
flourishing down he said to him, swinging it 
R 


258 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


gently, ‘‘ You wish to interfere with us, Master 
Steward ? Take care of your own head, I advise 
you. We are waiting to see you sent off, bag 
and baggage, counts, viscounts and all, by our 
young lady’s guardian.” 

‘‘And who may that be, as you are so wise r ” 
demanded Baudouin with a grin ; it was not ad- 
visable to quarrel openly with Gars-cogne. 

“ Why, Monsieur Nico, of course. Who else 
should it be ? ” growled the forester. 

Everybody laughed. 

“Don’t deceive yourselves, good people,” said 
Baudouin. “But you are not so foolish. As 
sure as I am standing here. Monsieur le Comte 
is Mademoiselle’s guardian, and she will be 
married to Monsieur le Vicomte as soon as the 
mourning is over. Ah, canaille.” 

For Gars-cogne had stepped up to him, and 
with a touch as it seemed had laid him flat on 
the turf. 

“As sure as you are lying there. Master 
Baudouin, that is a lie.” 

There was another burst of laughter, quickly 
checked ; for after all, however strong in the 
arm Gars-cogne might be, it was only too pos- 
sible that the real power would be on the 
steward’s side. He scrambled up, swearing, and 
limped back towards the gate, leaving the people 
to themselves. 

The family council met in the saloon, which 
opened from one end of the great hall. The 
elders sat stiffly in high -backed tapestry chairs. 


A STARTLING WILL 


259 


the younger members on stools in the back- 
ground : Rente’s stool was placed next to 
Madame de Mortemart’s chair, behind which 
stood the two nuns ; Jean deVassy stood behind 
his mother. The principal place was of course 
taken by the Comte de Saint-Gervais. The other 
elderly persons present, six gentlemen, were 
distant connections on the Montaigle side, Ma- 
dame de Mortemart being the only representa- 
tive of the Marquise’s family. Monsieur Jean’s 
two friends, rather to the indignation of some of 
the party, had stools near the door ; here was 
also Nicolas d’Aumont, gloomy and sad in his 
black cloak. The old Cure was there, with a 
troubled face; the Abbess’s chaplain fromFonte- 
vrault ; the doctor, an old attendant of the 
family ; and last, not least, the notary with his 
papers and parchments. He sat alone at a table 
in the middle of the room, and all eyes were bent 
on him. There was no change in his shrivelled 
face since the night when Madame Diane died. 
A wooden little man of law, all times of joy and 
sorrow were alike to him. 

Outside the servants crowded in the hall, 
Grand-Gui and Joli-gars in some discontent that 
they were not admitted to the council. Were 
they not, so to speak, the uncles of Mademoiselle ? 
Nearest to the door crouched I’Oiselet, under 
their strong protection. He was not ashamed 
to listen hard, in case any sound should find its 
way through the chinks ; but the door was safely 
closed and curtained with tapestry within. 


260 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


In a low, clear, monotonous voice the notary- 
read out all the titles and designations of his 
late employer, the list of his estates and posses- 
sions, set forth at great length, and of so much 
importance that the eyes of Monsieur Jean, kept 
carefully down, glowed with anticipation. Jewels, 
plate, everything movable of value — the cata- 
logue of these was also a long one. Then the 
Marquis stated that everything, his whole estate, 
his whole fortune, was left absolutely to his only 
daughter and heiress. There was no condition, 
except that masses should be perpetually said for 
the repose of his soul and that of his wife, Madame 
Diane de Grandseigne, Marquise de Montaigle, 
in the chapel where their bodies lay buried. 

The notary paused. It was conveyed to the 
quicker brains among those present that some- 
thing unexpected was in store for them. Cer- 
tainly a strange thrill ran round the room while 
the little man settled his spectacles on his nose 
and cleared his throat slightly before proceeding 
in a somewhat louder tone. Madame de Saint- 
Gervais looked up at her husband, who was 
biting his lips and very pale. She clenched her 
slight hands together and fixed her eyes once 
more on the notary. Jean's thicker nature felt 
no fear, and he was smiling at his own thoughts. 
Nicolas could not resist a glance at Renee, and 
their eyes met across the room. The Baron de 
Mancel frowned, shook his head, and muttered a 
word between his teeth in the ear of his neigh- 
bour De Bellefontaine. 


A STARTLING WILL 


261 


The notary’s voice, though louder, was un- 
moved and monotonous as ever, as he read on : 

“ In the case of my dying, through the visita- 
tion of God’s providence, while my daughter is 
still of tender age and unmarried, I entrust the 
care and guardianship of her person and estates 
to the honoured cousin of Madame her late 
mother, Madame Marie-Madeleine-Gabrielle de 
Rochechouart de Mortemart, Abbess of Fonte- 
vrault. I appoint this reverend lady guardian 
of my child, in the knowledge that such a step 
will be pleasing to Madame my late wife, and in 
complete confidence in her honourable wisdom. 
She will arrange a suitable marriage for my 
child, and will use no undue influence to induce 
her to enter the religious life. It is known that 
I had designed a marriage for my daughter with 
my cousin De Vassy de Montaigle ; but my 
desire is that in this matter, as in all else of the 
kind, she shall follow her own inclination. I 
have confidence in my daughter, that her duty 
to God and to me, and the great responsibility 
that is placed in her hands, will be the guiding 
considerations of her life. In this faith I give 
her my blessing.” 

There was a dead silence. Saint-Gervais 
opened his mouth and shut it again. De Mancel 
made a frightful grimace, Jean stared into va- 
cancy as if he understood nothing. The Comte 
half rose from his chair, but the notary lifted his 
hand, and he sat down again. More, then, of 
this wonderful document ! 


262 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


‘‘ I leave my sword to the Chevalier d’Aumont, 
formerly my ward, a brave soldier and an hon- 
ourable gentleman. I give him my blessing.*' 

“These last lines, messieurs et mesdames," 
said the reader sepulchrally, “ were added by his 
lordship a few days before his much-to-be- 
lamented decease." 

Again Ren6e looked across the room, but this 
time her Chevalier’s eyes were bent upon the 
floor. 

The atmosphere was electric. More than one 
person drew a breath of relief when Monsieur de 
Saint-Gervais broke the heavy silence suddenly. 
Only a little paler than usual, and perfectly com- 
posed, he rose from his chair and bowed to the 
M^re de Mortemart. 

“ My young cousin is fortunate," he said. 
“ Pray assure Madame I’Abbesse de Fontevrault 
that I and my family are entirely at her service. 
With her leave we shall remain here a few days, 
awaiting her commands. You, madame, will 
perhaps wish to return at once to Fontevrault ?" 

“ Yes, monsieur, to-morrow ; and with your 
permission, Mademoiselle de Montaigle will ac- 
company me. That would be my Superior’s wish." 

“Ah! no doubt," said the Comte. He turned 
his head, with one quick glance at Renee. 
Something, jperhaps the half-bewildered gladness 
in the girl’s face, made him smile ; his smile was 
not pleasing. His wife, on the contrary, was 
furious to the point of losing her self-control. 

“No, no," she was muttering. “Why should 


A STARTLING WILL 


263 


you let her go ? What weakness ! Send to her 
precious guardian and let her fetch the girl 
herself. Why throw up the game like a coward 
— mon Dieu ! ” 

As for Jean, he stood upright and motionless, 
his sullen face reddening and darkening slowly 
as the real state of things dawned more clearly 
upon him. That parchment lying there on the 
table, signed with careful characters by his old 
cousin Mathieu, himself now powerless and dead 
— that odious parchment, on which the little 
monkey of a notary was spreading out his thin 
claws — it held the ruin of all the fine prospects 
of his life. He had boasted and swaggered 
amongst other young men on the strength of a 
certain possession of the great Montaigle estates, 
combined with the headship of one of the most 
distinguished families in France. Could that 
parchment really deprive him of all ? He would 
tear it — burn it ! What devil could have possessed 
the wicked old cousin to make a hypocritical 
nun, a hateful Mortemart, guardian of his 
daughter ? It was true, he knew Renee's own 
sentiments from his mother, who had reported 
them fully last night to him and his father ; but 
all three had been convinced that the guardian- 
ship would arrange all that. The girl once in 
their hands, it would be easy to use something 
a little stronger than ordinary persuasion ; 
therefore the knowledge that he was refused had 
not depressed Jean seriously. But now, this was 
quite a different thing. 


264 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


While he brooded, his father was equal to the 
occasion. The council was breaking up, and no 
one could say that Monsieur de Saint- Gervais, as 
its natural head, had not behaved admirably. 
He had borne a severe shock ; it was as if his 
cousin, reaching from the grave, had dealt him 
a sudden and tremendous box on the ear. But 
his manners were as courteous and cool as if 
nothing had happened. No person present could 
say that he failed in politeness. When the door 
was set open, and the guests filed out into the 
hall and dispersed, the wondering eyes out there 
would have discovered nothing from Comte 
Alexandre as he strolled along beside one of the 
elder cousins and talked in the subdued manner 
that befitted the day. 

It was different with theComtesse and Monsieur 
Jean. Their looks were so black that Baudouin, 
for one, stared in consternation. He was still 
stiff from the bruise he owed to Gars-cogne, but 
he had hastily brushed and smoothed himself, 
and had come in his usual sleekness to the hall. 
There he had found some slight satisfaction in 
bustling the foresters and TOiselet away from 
their places near the door. At such a place and 
time they could not very well resist the steward’s 
authority; and Baudouin, cap in hand, stood 
nearest to the passing company. 

Mademoiselle Renee and the M^re de Morte- 
mart came out hand in hand with eyes cast down, 
and walked straight to the staircase ; nothing was 
to be learnt from them. Here were Monsieur 


A STARTLING WILL 


265 


Jean's two friends deep in talk, and as a strange 
contrast to the gravity of every one else, the 
Baron de Mancel was holding his sides in a fit of 
stifled laughter. They went out together into 
the courtyard. Then, after a moment's interval, 
Nicolas d'Aumont came into the hall alone. 

Though most of the servants in their own 
interest had bowed down to the Saint-Gervais 
ascendant star, Nicolas kept his popularity 
among all but a few, and those the worst of them. 
The dislike between him and the steward was 
of very long standing ; any boy brought up at 
Montaigle would have hated Baudouin, traitor, 
mischief-maker, tale-bearer. He was even more 
odious than fat, greedy, drunken Gobert, who 
spent most of his time in the cellar and the 
larder, and only came out to complain or tell 
lies. Gobert was not in the hall now ; the 
funeral dinner had been too much for him. But 
though his ugly red face was absent, there was 
the pale visage of Baudouin, foremost of the little 
crowd into which Nicolas stepped from the 
saloon. Through a door that stood open 
beyond, a long rosy ray of evening sunshine fell 
on the young soldier's erect figure and his fair 
face, full of some new joy that seemed to trans- 
figure it. He paused a moment on the threshold, 
looking at that waiting crowd. Suddenly the 
old beams echoed a deep-voiced exclamation, 
not altogether new to them — “Vive Monsieur 
Nico!" 

Baudouin turned and scowled in the direction 


266 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


of the voice. Some one else laughed, and the 
Chevalier himself was smiling. 

‘‘ If Monsieur would tell us the meaning of all 

this ” Baudouin suggested, with an affected 

air of respect. “The Seigneur’s will concerns 
us all, but we have heard nothing.” 

“Very true, Baudouin,” said Nicolas; his 
voice shook a little. ^ “ My part is, that my 
guardian has left me his sword and his bless- 
mg. 

“Vive Monsieur Nico!” three or four voices 
now took up the cry. 

One, young, shrill and venturesome, dared to 
add very audibly, “And would give you his 
daughter in marriage ! ” 

A kind of tumult rose in the hall. Baudouin 
stamped his foot with rage, then turned des- 
perately on the young man. “If Monsieur le 
Chevalier would silence these evil-tongued fools 
— that wild savage Grand-Gui, that blundering 
ass Joli-gars, that little fiend of a dwarf, who has 
been let loose among us again for our sins — 
there might be a chance of hearing the truth. 
What would our masters say, I wonder, if they 
heard such scandal and loose speaking ! One 
would think they ruled here no longer.” 

“One’s thought would not be so far wrong, 
Baudouin,” said Nicolas. 

Neither he nor any one else took any notice of 
rOiselet’s bold suggestion. “If you mean by 
‘ our masters,’ ” he went on, “ Monsieur de Saint- 
Gervais and Monsieur de Vassy. Mademoiselle’s 


A STARTLING WILL 267 

guardian, appointed by her father's will, is the 
Abbess of Fontevrault." 

The hall was filled with wild cries and ex^ 
clamations. Baudouin rushed out, pursued by 
shouts from a few, led by the brothers Guillaume, 
of “ Vive Fontevrault ! Vive Mortemart ! Vive 
Madame TAbbesse ! Vive Monsieur Nico ! A bas 
Saint-Gervais ! A bas Monsieur Jean ! " 

Nicolas had just calmed the uproar, which was 
increased by the presence of several of the 
Abbess's own men from Fontevrault, when Jean 
de Vassy's two friends, attracted by it, came 
back into the hall. 

“ What is all this hurly-burly, Chevalier ? " 
said Monsieur de Mancel, laughing. “ Are they 
congratulating you ? Do they expect to be 
driven with a loose rein by the reverend Mothers 
of Fontevrault ? What an arrangement, by all 
that's ridiculous ! " 

“It will be overturned, of course,’’ drawled 
Monsieur de Bellefontaine. 

“How can it be overturned, sir?'’ Nicolas 
asked, so abruptly that the young Comte's hand 
moved towards his sword. 

“ By the King's power, sir,’' he answered with 
equal shortness. 

“ Oh, come, if they wait for all your cursed 
formalities ! ” cried Monsieur de Mancel. 

Nico remembered the words afterwards. At 
the time, not loving these gentlemen’s company, 
he bowed and walked away. 

As the Comte de Saint-Gervais grew older, it 


268 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


had become more and more his role to pose as a 
philosopher. He had found it answer extremely 
well, both at Versailles and Montaigle, the two 
strangely different places where most of his life 
was spent. At Court, even in these more re- 
spectable days of Madame de Maintenon, it was 
an advantage to keep one’s head cool, to smile 
cynically at the weaknesses and excitabilities of 
others, having none of one’s own. And a cha- 
racter so calmly superior had a very fine and 
convincing effect on the cousin at Montaigle in 
his unworldliness. Such a man would think 
twice before suspecting the elegant, reasonable 
Alexandre of mercenary or ambitious motives. 

But the trial of to-day was enough to upset 
the philosophy of Socrates himself. All his long 
exertions thrown away : all his family arrange- 
ments knocked on the head by the very man 
who had seemed to enter into them : a will in 
favour of the rival house of Mortem art, with 
nothing but a faint recommendation of a Saint- 
Gervais marriage, the bare chance of which was 
removed by such a guardianship. Truly, life 
seemed one long deception ; and it was without 
a smile, even a cynical one, that Monsieur de 
Saint-Gervais joined his wife and son after the 
family council. 

“ So — that affair is finished ! ” he said with a 
slight sigh. 

“Madame — you hear him ! ” cried Jean, turn- 
ing a crimson face to his mother. 

“ Finished ! By the will of a madman ! ” 


A STARTLING WILL 


269 


exclaimed the Comtesse violently. “ Bear wit- 
ness, both of you : did I not always tell you that 
this wretched old Mathieu was mad ? Who but 
a madman could be so deceitful ? He led you to 
think that his whole heart was in it, while he 
was plotting this other frightful treason. Why, 
how he has lied to you ! He promised you over 
and over again.” 

“Not precisely,” the Comte said, shrugging 
his shoulders. “ I depended too much, it seems, 
on his respect for his name. I took too little 
account of his prejudices and superstitions. 
From a boy he never liked Jean. And no 
wonder ! who would ? He would have swallowed 
the arrangement much more easily without Jean. 
Unfortunately, Jean was the necessary part of it. 
He was always haunted, more than you or I 
knew, probably, by the dying remarks of Madame 
la Marquise. He expected her to walk in at any 
moment, scattering curses and woes ” 

Madame de Saint-Gervais started and crossed 
herself. 

“Apparently,” the Comte sneered, lifting his 
eyebrows, “ we have no right to be astonished. 
To proceed : I fancy Mathieu had salved his 
conscience by saying to me, as he did, that he 
would not force his daughter's inclination. And 
after all, if he had lived, I think all would have 
been well. The young girl would in time have 
been brought to her senses.” 

“How could she say she did not like me!” 
exclaimed Jean indignantly. “She was ready 


270 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


to dance with me. I told her that her eyes and 
her skin were beautiful, though I don’t think so. 
I like a white skin and pink cheeks. I like a 
woman to be fat, and she is as thin as my stick. 
Bellefontaine said she was exquisite, and I told 
him he might have her if he would turn over the 
estates and the diamonds to me.” 

“The diamonds ! The diamonds! To think 
that we have lost all ! ” groaned Madame de 
Saint-Gervais. 

“ When I was young, Vicomte,” said her 
husband, “a gentleman who talked so of his 
intended wife would have been kicked into the 
kennel.” 

“Ah — ^you have always hated me,” snarled 
Jean. “ I believe this is your doing.” 

He glared at his father as if he would have 
liked to kill him. He, big, powerful, red and 
furious ; Alexandre, slight, pale, delicate, sar- 
castic ; they were the strangest contrast ever 
seen. 

“ Voyons I No more of this,” cried the Com- 
tesse. “You are both as mad as old Mathieu.” 

She flew upon Jean, and with her two small 
hands pushed him half across the room. Mon- 
sieur de Saint-Gervais laughed. 

“ Yes, Jean — I do not recommend any more 
mistakes,” he said. “ You must take lessons in 
the art of flattery, with a view to the next heiress 
— a white-skinned one, let us hope. However, 
to speak seriously, I see one glimmer of light in 
this affair.” 


A STARTLING WILL 


271 


“ What — what ? 

“It struck me very long ago, I remember, 
that if Mathieu played us false, we might repre- 
sent that his brain was weak. Such a course 
would be much easier now that he is dead, and 
has left a will so extraordinary in its unreason- 
ableness. I think that matters might be so 
represented that the will might be set aside, and 
that Mademoiselle Renee might become a ward 
of his Majesty. We need not now, I fancy, 
fear much from the Mortemart influence at 
Versailles. And then, that once managed, if 
Madame de Maintenon*s favour were secured for 
Jean 

“ That will be easy. She thinks him a very 
fine young man,” cried the Comtesse. 

“ Still, I recommend him discretion. At pre- 
sent we must bow to circumstances. The girl 
must go to Fontevrault, and we must return dis- 
appointed to Versailles.” 

“ If she goes to Fontevrault she will never 
leave it.” 

“ Ask his Majesty,” Alexandre replied to this, 
with his faint smile. 

After a few more words, he left them to attend 
to the guests, Jean, lingering behind him, came 
close up to his mother and said, “ Madame, I do 
not believe in this plan.” 

“ There is no other, my son, unless you take 
her away to-night and marry her in spite of 
every one.” She looked at Jean and laughed, 
half alarmed at her own words. “ But that 


272 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


would be wicked — and more, impossible,” she 
added hastily.” 

At that moment some one scratched at the 
door, and Baudouin put in his head, more sleek 
than ever, with a cunning smile : 

Could Monsieur le Baron speak to Monsieur 
le Vicomte ? ” 

“I am coming,” Jean answered. He stared 
hard in his mother's face, muttered, “ Remember, 
you said it ! ” and was gone. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

AT MIDNIGHT 

Eleven o’clock, and a dark night ; the moon not 
yet up, and a sky covered with clouds. Grand- 
Gui lay full length in the bricked corridor, his 
head and arms on the lowest step of the stairs 
leading to Mademoiselle’s room, and snored with 
the peacefulness of a good conscience and a mind 
at rest. With Joli-gars and Agathe he had been 
talking of the well-remembered night after 
Madame’s funeral, when they had risked every- 
thing to rescue the child from her cousins. Now 
all was well. The Marquis’s will had settled 
that, and to-morrow morning the M^re de Mor- 
tem art would carry off her charge to Fonte- 
vrault. The brothers agreed that they two, with 
Ga’cogne, would see the coach safe through the 
forest, just in case of any foul play at the last 
moment. 

Agathe’s little girl was ill and feverish that 
night, so that she could not sleep in Renee’s 
room as usual, but a young waiting-maid from 
Fontevrault was there, and with her giant at the 
foot of the stairs and her dwarf in his old cell 


s 


2 74 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


close by, the mistress of Montaigle was well 
guarded. 

Suddenly a lantern flashed in Grand- Gui’s 
eyes, and he was shaken by the shoulder. He 
sat up, staring wildly. Baudouin^s pale face was 
bending over him. 

‘‘ Get up, forester : you are wanted.'* 

** Who wants me ? ** 

It was a suspicious growl. 

‘‘ Stay where you are, if you choose, of course,** 
said Baudouin. ‘‘If you like to neglect your 
own and your lady's business, it is your affair : 
you are too big to be managed by me. But the 
band of poachers from La Fleche is abroad ; the 
forest is alive with them ; they are driving all 
the game before them, while iyou lie grunting 
here. Guarding Mademoiselle ? The chateau is 
full of her guards : besides which, twenty robbers 
could step over your long carcase without waking 
you." 

“ Who told you this ? " stammered Grand-Gui, 
scrambling to his feet. 

“Ga'cogne sent a fellow to Joli-gars, who was 
snoring too, while his poor wife nursed the child 
— I met him running down the court. A pretty 
porter — he can’t forget his old work it seems. I 
told him I would find some one to keep the gate, 
and would warn you." 

“ Those La Fleche rascals — whereabouts, mas- 
ter steward, do you know ? I thought we had 
given them a lesson last time. Ga'cogne killed 
two with his fists and the rest ran away." 


AT MIDNIGHT 


275 


“ Perhaps they heard there were none but un- 
derstrappers in the forest now. Gascogne alone 
against a hundred would be long odds. Towards 
the Coin des Larrons, I understood.’' 

“The road to Fontevrault! Ah, by the Saints! 
we must have it clear and safe by to-morrow 
morning." 

“ It’s true ! You are a clever fellow, Grand- 
Gui. I had not thought of that. Ah ! the ladies 
must not be frightened.’’ 

“ I’ll see to it,’’ said Grand-Gui. 

He shook himself like a great dog roused from 
sleep and strode off down the corridor. For 
once, Baudouin had done right in his eyes. He 
grinned as he thought that the steward meant to 
keep his place under the new regime. Baudouin 
also grinned, holding up the lantern to look after 
him. Then he too went away. 

The voices, and the lights that flashed through 
the chinks of a crazy old door, woke I’Oiselet in 
his little room close by. When all was still and 
dark again he opened his door and crept out upon 
the staircase. He had heard the talk of the two 
men, and his mind was uneasy. To his nervous 
temperament the air was full of evil and danger, 
softly and sweetly as it breathed through a grated 
window just above. Owls were hooting, away 
in the park, a dreary and fateful sound in that 
midnight hour. The presentiment was so strong 
that he went back after a few minutes and dressed 
himself fully, hiding his little dagger under his 
black cloak ; then came out again and mounted 


276 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


the stone stairs noiselessly, till the last turn 
brought him within a few steps of Rente’s door. 
There he sat down in a corner, determined to 
watch till day. 

He had not been there long, and was still wide 
awake, when a ray of light struck the wall above 
him. A man, coming softly up with a lantern, 
suddenly turned the corner upon him, and started 
with an exclamation as he nearly fell over the 
dark bundle crouching there. L’Oiselet rose, 
clutching at his dagger, and for a moment the 
slender blade flashed out ; but then he laughed 
and put it back, recognising the frightened face 
that confronted him. This was not Baudouin, 
or any one of the traitors who, for him, filled the 
Chateau de Montaigle. It was an honest little 
fellow named Michel, one of the Abbess's pos- 
tilions, who generally rode her off-leader. A 
rather puzzled soul was Michel, and growing old : 
he had served Madame Jeanne-Baptiste de Bour- 
bon, and the Abbey of Fontevrault had no one 
more faithful, though some cleverer. 

“ Silence ! You will wake Mademoiselle. 
What do you want at this time of night ? " said 
rOiselet angrily. 

“ What ! It is you ? I thought they told me 
Grand-Gui slept on the stairs,” murmured 
Michel, bewildered. 

“ If he had been there, my friend, you wouldn't 
have come so far as this,” answered the dwarf. 
‘‘ He has been fetched to drive off poachers. In 
his place I would not have gone, I think. How- 


AT MIDNIGHT 


277 


ever, if the way is too long between your brains 
and your feet, you must sometimes blunder. I 
don’t know — but that Baudouin is a liar — ^you 
have heard nothing of these poachers, Michel ? 
I wonder, now — but what do you want ? ” 

“That's just it — ^you chatter so, I can't tell you. 
What should I know about poachers ? I am bring- 
ing a message from Madame de Mortemart." 

“ Why couldn't you say so at once, old don- 
key? Well?" 

“ I was to take it to Mademoiselle herself." 

“Mademoiselle is asleep. You must first 
tell it to me. Then, if I find it necessary, I 
shall awaken Fanchon, who is there to-night in 
Agathe's place, and she will wake her mistress." 

“ But all that is too much delay, because she 
must be ready in half an hour." 

“ What do you mean ? " 

“ On the stroke of midnight the coach will 
start for Fontevrault. Madame de Mortem art 
desires Mademoiselle to be ready and to join her 
in the lower court. You and Fanchon and some 
of our people are to follow with the baggage in 
the morning." 

“ And why not now ? " 

“ Because it is dark, and I cannot guide both 
the coach and the waggon," replied Michel with 
dignity. 

“ In half an hour ! Can it be possible ? " 

“Possible, mon petit, and also wise. So I 
thought, when they brought me the message. 
This is not the place to linger in too long. They 


278 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


tell me '' — he bent over the dwarf and whispered 
in his ear — “ that Monsieur le Vicomte has laid 
a heavy wager with Monsieur le Baron de Man- 
cel that he will marry Mademoiselle before the 
year is out. And you know as well as I, little 
bird, he is not the man to stick at trifles.'' 

“ Indeed, no,’' said I’Oiselet thoughtfully. 
“But this midnight start — you are sure you 
know the way ? And these poaching bands in 
the forest " 

“ The moon will be up soon ; our men are 
armed. We don’t fear a few poachers. Besides, 

if the foresters are about, as you say ” 

“ Ah, mon vieux, but they won’t expect you. 
I wonder if it is wise ? " 

“ But yes — to slip quietly off in the dark, while 
the whole chateau is asleep ! Monsieur le Vi- 
comte gets up in the morning — v’l^, the pretty 
bird is flown. Come, come, we are wasting time. 
Knock at the door quickly." 

Mademoiselle Ren^e was fast asleep on her 
broad pillows, smiling in her dreams, with long 
eyelashes still damp from the tears for that poor 
father who had so well shown his love for her, 
his reverence for her mother's memory. It 
seemed to her that she had only just fallen 
asleep when Fanchon woke her. In a few 
minutes she was ready to receive the M^re 
Louise's messenger, behind whom I'Oiselet 
crept into the room. His counsel was very 
soon called for. Mademoiselle Ren4e was 
angry. It did not at all suit her ideas of dig- 


AT MIDNIGHT 


279 


nity to steal out of her own castle at dead of 
night and escape like a fugitive through the 
forest. What could the dear Mother be think- 
ing of ? She questioned old Michel rather 
severely: had he seen the Mother himself? 
No : the message had been brought to him by 
Philippe, one of the other grooms, who had re- 
ceived it from one of the nuns, the M^re de la 
Roussi^re. Philippe was on his way to get the 
horses ready: the message was most urgent. 
Why did not the Mother de Mortemart come 
herself or send the nuns ? Because the depar- 
ture was to be secret, and the less they ran 
about the chateau the better. Where was 
Grand-Gui ? L'Oiselet told her. 

“ What do you think of this ? she said to him. 
“ Should I go ? I am very angry. I detest 
these underhand ways. Yes, once was enough, 
rOiselet. I was a child then. What harm can 
come to me now that I am grown up, and my 
father's will is known ? " 

“ Still, I do not think Mademoiselle is too 
safe here," I’Oiselet said rather doubtfully. 
‘‘Madame la Comtesse will not willingly be 
beaten : they are all furious. If they could 
keep Mademoiselle away from Fontevrault they 
surely would ; and it is possible that some re- 
port has reached Madame de Mortemart — that 
the coach will not be allowed to start to-morrow 

—or will be waylaid^ " 

“ Yes, that is what I think," said Michel. 
“ Our Mother de Mortemart is a wise young 


2 80 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


lady, a true niece of Madame TAbbesse, we 
always say.” 

The two stood looking at Renee. She stood 
there, still flushed with sleep, in the dim candle- 
light which made the high room only more 
cavernous. Fanchon had thrown a cloak round 
her, but the small white feet were bare and the 
dark curls streamed back in disorder. Not even 
rOiselet had ever seen his little lady so lovely. 
Since she had left the convent she had grown 
into a woman. Yesterday he had watched her 
with bewildered admiration : now, he would 
gladly have fallen down and kissed those feet 
on the cold uneven bricks of the floor. 

The girl still hesitated, frowning and rather 
indignant. 

“ I hate to behave like a thief,” she said. 

“ The thieves are on the other side of the 
question,” murmured TOiselet. 

“ What could they do to me ? ” 

“ What could they not do, if they were wicked 
enough ! 

“ After all, TOiselet, they are my cousins, and 
not devils from hell,” observed Renee, and she 
laughed. 

“ Mademoiselle is too kind. I thank her, in 
the name of Madame la Comtesse and Monsieur 
Jean.” 

“In the meanwhile time is being lost, and 
Mesdames and the coach will be waiting,” ex- 
claimed old Michel impatiently. “ And I must 
go to help with the horses.” 


AT MIDNIGHT 


281 


He went off without another word. 

“ One must follow, I suppose,’’ said Renee. 
“ Quick, Fanchon, I must be dressed at once. 
And you, TOiselet, go ” — she stopped a moment, 
and the rosy flush, the light in her eyes, dwelt 
in her servant's memory — “ go and call Monsieur 
le Chevalier. Ask him to come and guard us 
through the forest.” 

What becomes of secrecy, I’Oiselet thought, 
as he limped down the stairs, if people are to be 
fetched from the farthest corners of the chateau ! 
She would end by spoiling all. However, there 
was no disobeying her— and what would Mon- 
sieur Nico say in the morning, to find that she 
was gone without his knowledge ! 

Dead stillness in the dark courts, not a light 
in any of the windows of tower or pavilion, just 
traceable in their ponderous whiteness against 
the cloudy and still moonless sky. Only down 
in the lower court, far below the archway where 
Agathe lived, waking ears might hear a slight 
jingling of chains, and now and then the clank, 
half smothered, of horses’ feet on stones. But 
not the sound of a voice, which in that still 
night would have been clearly audible ; and no 
light was to be seen. The Abbess’s men were 
doing their work with dark lanterns, or by the 
sense of touch alone ; the horses seemed to share 
their caution. Truly the M^re de Mortemart 
had made her arrangements well ; she was, as 
Michel said, a wise young lady. 

But now the question was, how to reach 


2 82 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Monsieur Nico and bring him down in time ? 
He had kept his old room in the library tower, 
where he had always slept, as a boy, to be near 
his guardian and to act as his page when re- 
quired. This tower was away on the other side 
of the large court, the cour d’honneur. The door 
at the foot of its staircase was generally open, 
several servants sleeping in the damp holes of 
the basement. To-night however, when TOise- 
let tried it gently, it was fast locked. Not 
daring to knock or make any noise, he stole 
back to the steps that led to the hall : a little 
side-door there might possibly be open ; he 
knew its trick of old ; and from the hall and the 
grand staircase a narrow passage with various 
doors and windings led to the library. As he 
approached this door it opened suddenly, so 
suddenly that he had only just time to step back 
into the deeper shadow of the wall. Two men, 
heavily cloaked, came out ; it seemed to TOiselet 
that they were also masked. One of them 
turned back, locked the door and pulled out the 
key, which screeched its resentment. They went 
on, talking low, and I’Oiselet caught a few 
words. 

“ Easily. Philippe gags him, and ties 
him 

Then a laugh, and they had disappeared in 
the darkness. 

UOiselet, being quite unfamiliar with the 
present guests of the chateau, had no idea who 
these men might be. The voice, the walk, were 


AT MIDNIT^HT 


283 

those of gentlemen. What were they doing, 
out and about at midnight ? What did they 
say ? Were they going down through the court- 
yards to spoil all? Had the plan been dis- 
covered ? “ Philippe ! Instantly light seemed 

to break on the youth's brain. Nobody ever 
trusted Philippe very far — Giraud’s brother-in- 
law, the forester’s enemy. There had been a 
talk of his leaving the Abbess’s service, and 
though he still hung on at Fontevrault, he was 
always discontented, always boasting of the fine 
offers he had had from this or that grand 
seigneur. 

“ Oh, to be like other people ! ” 

Never had I’Oiselet felt himself in such ter- 
rible difficulty as now. He could have sworn 
that this man Philippe, a clever fellow cer- 
tainly, whom the M^re de Mortemart had 
trusted with her orders, had betrayed the plan, 
probably to Monsieur de Vassy. What would 
happen ? He did not know. He had never 
been so bewildered, and the darkness made 
everything a thousand times worse and more 
confusing. Evidently he could not, through all 
these locked doors, reach Monsieur Nico without 
rousing the chateau. It was on the very stroke 
of midnight. He bethought himself of warning 
Madame de Mortemart that something might 
be wrong, and hurried, as fast as his crippled 
limbs would carry him, to a little gate which led 
from the cour d’honneur into a smaller court 
where the nuns’ lodgings were. Had the reve- 


284 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


rend Mothers gone down to their coach already ? 
Who could tell! The gate was locked, and 
securely fastened with a chain. 

Then the great bell began to toll out mid- 
night, and rOiselet shuddered in the warm air 
as the owls hooted again, far off in the garden, 
and dogs, near and distant, began to bark and 
howl. Small and helpless, he stood at the foot 
of the towering walls and looked up to heaven. 
Dark there too ; all dark, all motionless, and no 
human sound to be heard now, not even the 
jingle of a harness chain. 

The words of those men returned upon I’Oise- 
let's brain. Evidently some project was on foot, 
some plan of violence. Who was to be gagged 
and tied ? Would the coach be stopped ? Would 
it even be allowed to start ? Was Philippe really 
a traitor ? 

He limped down through the first archway, 
past the chapel, its loophole windows glimmer- 
ing into the night. At the far end of the lower 
court, past the stable entrance, on the grass 
where overhanging trees made the darkness 
darker, two faint lights were flickering, and as 
he came near, walking noiselessly in the shadow, 
he could just trace the great ponderous mass of 
the coach between them. A horse moved and 
rattled his harness ; a low, impatient voice said 
something. 

L’Oiselet’s keen senses told him that though 
he could not see them several men were there, 
on the left of the coach and about the horses. 


AT MIDNIGHT 


285 


He was also aware that the coach door on that 
side stood open. Evidently they were waiting : 
it seemed to TOiselet that neither the nuns nor 
Mademoiselle Ren4e were yet arrived. It was 
only a quite undefined feeling of something 
wrong that kept him from going forward and 
speaking to the men, even after he had crept up 
close to the back of the coach and had seen 
plainly that one of them, standing by the door, 
was certainly in the Abbess’s livery. Then the 
same low voice, a grating, nervous voice, 
sounded again from the darkness : “ Is she 
coming ? ” “ Not yet,” said another voice. 
“ Patience ! ” and there was a smothered laugh. 

By this time TOiselet had slipped round to 
the other side, raised himself on the step, and 
peered into the inside depths, dark but familiar. 
The coach was empty. As he stepped cau- 
tiously down again, the first voice said, “ She is 
coming. Go and meet her. Say all is ready.” 

The light of a swaying lantern was coming 
down the court. Fan chon carried it, and was 
closely followed by her young mistress, wrapped 
up for a journey. The man by the coach-door 
hurried to meet them. 

“ It is Philippe, is it not?” said Ren4e, and her 
voice trembled a little, but not with fear. “ Are 
we late ? Is Madame de Mortemart waiting ? Is 
the Chevalier d’Aumont here ? ” 

Mademoiselle, the reverend Mothers are in 
the coach. Monsieur le Chevalier has ridden on in 
advance,” the man answered without hesitation. 


286 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


L'Oiselet, at that moment, was hurrying for- 
ward to meet his little lady. He meant, he 
hardly knew why, to ask her to wait under the 
upper archway till Madame de Mortemart came ; 
he meant also to beg that he might go with them 
in the coach. The strangest and most creepy 
feeling of distrust had laid hold upon him. Those 
voices — were they the voices of Madame de 
Fontevrault’s men ? Yet — if not — what did it all 
mean ? Old Michel, who brought the message, 
was certainly honest as the day. It was im- 
possible to see whether he was there among 
them. 

Now, as he limped up the uneven slope, the 
lantern light dancing before his eyes, dazzling 
him, making him stumble more than ever, those 
two lies from Philippe's mouth smote upon his 
ear. He shouted suddenly — “Mademoiselle! 
Go back, go back ! Treason ! " He saw Renee 
stop short, but then was instantly aware of a 
man with a drawn sword running straight upon 
him, and heard a furious voice say, “ That little 
demon ! You fool, Baudouin, why did you leave 
him loose I " 

Without the friendly darkness he could not 
have escaped. As it was, having better eyes 
than his pursuer, he dodged him across the court, 
rousing all the echoes of the old place with a 
series of yells for help, to which onl}^ the echoes 
replied. Finding himself close to the coach, he 
crept underneath it and waited there trembling 
for a moment or two, unseen by the men who 


AT MIDNIGHT 


287 


were busy catching greater game than himself. 
He heard a stifled cry from Renee, a scream 
from Fanchon instantly stopped. He nearly 
flew out with his dagger into the midst of the 
mUcCy but then quick prudence suggested that he 
would only be killed at once, and that his lady, 
now being carried by main force towards the 
coach-door, would be left among these wretches 
without a single defender. In the next moment, 
hardly knowing how he did it, he crawled out 
under the wheels, scrambled to the step, dived 
into the coach and hid himself under the broad 
seat, holding his breath, in pitchy darkness. 

“ What do you mean ? Put me down ! I com- 
mand you, Jean, put me down, I will not go. 
What treason is this? Where is Madame de 
Mortemart ? ” 

There was no fear in Renee’s voice, but a 
white heat of anger and pride that might have 
affected a braver if not a worse man than Jean 
de Vassy. 

“Be still. I will do you no mischief,” he 
said : but with an irresistible strength of arm he 
pushed her into the farthest corner of the coach 
and held her there, while he leaned forward and 
spoke with set teeth to some one outside. 

“ Catch that devilish dwarf and hang him up,” 
he said. “ He nearly spoiled all. If ever I see 
him alive again I’ll hang you. Shut the girl up 
till morning, and let her make no noise. My 
compliments to the Chevalier, and tell him to 
send me a wedding present. En avant ! ” 


288 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Certainly it was not old Michel who urged the 
Abbess’s horses to such a break-neck speed 
down the hill, through the sleeping village, and 
dashed so recklessly into the black, haunted, 
midnight depths of the forest. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE COACH 

Within the coach, as it jolted along, there was 
at first a breathless silence. Renee had shrunk 
away from her cousin into the farthest corner. 
Suddenly she sprang to the window and beat 
hard with her fists upon the glass, but it was too 
strong to be broken. 

Arretez ! arr^tez ! ** she shrieked. ‘‘ I will 
not go ! I will not ! 

“ Take care; you will hurt your pretty hands,'* 
Jean said quietly. Something in his voice re- 
called Renee to her dignity, almost forgotten for 
the moment. She looked towards him, but the 
lamps in front of the coach shed the faintest 
glimmer within, and she could only see a dark 
mass in the opposite corner. 

“ Do you hear me, Jean ? " she said. “ Stop 
the coach this instant ! What does all this mean ? 
Where are you taking me ? I thought " 

Something choked her: for a moment, the 
terror and bewilderment of the situation were 
almost too much. “ What coach is this ? " she 
said, with a desperate effort at self-control. 

T 


290 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“You ought to know it/’ he answered. “You 
have travelled in it before/* 

“ My aunt’s coach ! But how — where are the 
reverend Mothers ? What have you done with 
them ? ” 

“ Nothing. They are asleep in their beds, I 
suppose.” 

“ Indeed no — they are not. The M^re de 
Mortemart sent me a message to join her at 
midnight — she wished to leave Montaigle at 
once. Do you suppose I came down to meet — 
you ? ” 

“ Certainly, mademoiselle, I suppose no such 
thing,” said Jean with a laugh ; the scorn in her 
voice was rather stinging. “ Now if I had 
been the dear friend Nicolas d’Aumont, whose 
escort you expected from what you said just 
now ” 

“ They said he had ridden on. They said the 
M^re de Mortemart was here. What does it all 
mean ? Oh, what villainy is this ! Oh, you 
shall be punished for this, cousin ! What have 
you done ! ” 

“ I have taken possession of what belongs to 
me by right,” he said. “Long years ago your 
father promised mine that we should marry. If 
in his dotage superstition was too much for him, 
and he was weak enough to listen to your fancies 
and also to make us powerless for the future, it 
did not follow that I should sit down and bear 
the disappointment. You said you would not 
marry me. I say you shall. This coach was to 


THE COACH 


291 


carry you out of my reach to-morrow morning. 
I choose that it shall carry you in another direc- 
tion.’* 

Ren4e listened to this speech in silence. There 
was a touch of resolution, of reckless daring 
about it which oddly appealed to something 
within herself. Jean de Vassy was a horror to 
her ; he was a bully and a villain ; but he was a 
man of her own old race, a Montaigle after all. 
For a moment or two she kept silence, and then 
said : “ They will overtake us. They will ride 

like the wind.” 

“ Who ? No one knows, except Baudouin and 
one or two trusty fellows.** 

“ Oh, pardon ! The reverend Mothers, Fan- 
chon, rOiselet — if not Nicolas, for I sent him to 
call him.” 

‘‘He did not call him. He was skirmishing 
about the coach — did not you see his yellow 
mop ? He is hanged by this time. Baudouin 
has made short work of him — he knows me too 
well to disobey. I kill wasps when I can. As 
to your woman, she is locked up safe. So is that 
old fool of a groom who carried you the message. 
The reverend Mothers, as I tell you, are fast 
asleep in bed.” 

“ Do you mean,** said Renee slowly, “ that the 
Mere de Mortemart sent me no message at all ? ” 

“ At last you see light,** her cousin answered 
coolly. “A clever plan, was it hot? De Mancel, 
who is now riding postilion in Michel’s place, 
worked out the details of it : I mean to pay him 


292 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

out of the Montaigle diamonds, n’est-ce pas ! First 
we got those rascally foresters out of the way by 
spreading a report of a band of poachers, which 
they swallowed like greedy stupid fish. Then 
the fellow Philippe, who has been begging for 
years to enter my service, crammed old Michel 
with a message from your Mortemart lady, and 
tied him up, well gagged, when he came back 
from delivering it to you. De Mancel and I 
laughed to split our sides. De Bellefontaine had 
to shake us back into our senses. He wanted to 
come inside the coach with you and me, but I 
thought we should talk better without him.** 

“ How dare you tell me all this ! ** said Renee. 
The indignation in her voice was so deep that 
Jean hesitated a moment. 

“ I like you to know that I am in earnest, ma 
belle,*’ he said. “None of your notaries and 
parchments will be of any use to you, now that 
you are in my hands. So you may as well make 
the best of it.** 

“ Where then are you taking me ? ** 

“ To my own den — to Vassy, which I visit as 
seldom as I can — a rat-haunted old ruin. But 
there is a village cure who will do as I tell him 
and a chapel still used inside the walls. And I 
have my witnesses with me.’* 

“And you imagine that when you have brought 
me to Vassy, I shall consent to marry you ? ** 

“ I do not imagine, belle cousine — I know.” 

“ You are deceiving yourself. I would sooner 
die than marry you.” 


THE COACH 


293 


‘‘Well,” he said — and laughed — “there are 
dungeons at Vassy, and not too much to eat 
there at the best of times/’ 

After this Renee was silent. All kinds of wild 
thoughts flew through her young head as the 
coach lurched and swung, dragged along at a 
pace for which it had never been built. It jerked 
violently into ruts and out of them ; once or twice, 
only by clinging with both hands to the side 
Renee could save herself from being thrown 
right across it. She tried hard to think clearly, 
but the more she thought the more terrible the 
situation seemed. She was in the hands of an 
unscrupulous man, backed by two friends as bad 
as himself. She knew that Jean would stick at 
nothing to gain his end. Now she saw how 
weak, how fruitless, were a girl’s own intentions 
as to disposing of her life when desperate people 
like Jean de Vassy and his mother — the Com- 
tesse’s looks and words returned to her very 
vividly — were resolved to lay their hands upon 
it. Then she wondered if, by signing a deed of 
gift of all her property, she could induce Jean to 
let her go. She would be as welcome poor as 
rich in the peace of Fontevrault. “What ! give 
Montaigle to such a monster as this, to succeed 
my father 1 Dishonourable and faithless ! ” That 
thought was put aside. Another followed it ; 
could she temporise with Jean? Some women, 
she knew by instinct, would save themselves in 
that way ; would pretend to be softened, pretend 
to listen, and by their own cleverness, like De- 


294 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


lilah, have their own way at last with the brute 
creature at their feet. But Ren^e was too young, 
too proud, too noble, to be one of these. If she 
had for a moment, in her ignorance, tolerated 
Jean’s looks and manners, that moment was long 
gone by ; and now she could not, if she would, 
dissemble her horror of him. For one thing she 
was thankful : that he spared her his odious ad- 
miration, and did not find love-making a neces- 
sary part of this adventure. His threats of dun- 
geon and starvation were less dreadful than that 
would have been. 

Perhaps, on reflection, he was a little ashamed 
of these, for when he spoke again it was in a 
milder tone. 

“ Be reasonable,” he said. ‘‘ Your resistance is 
absurd. Most women would prefer being carried 
off in spite of themselves. You know I am only 
hurrying matters on a little. Every one knows 
that your father was mad when he made that 
will and gave you that woman for a guardian. 
We are very sure that the King would set it 
aside at once. You would become a ward of the 
Crown, and my mother would soon persuade the 
Marquise de Maintenon that I was the right hus- 
band for you. So you see, mademoiselle, wher- 
ever you turn, there is no escape from me.” 

‘‘ Then why did you do this ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, I was impatient. I could not see you 
taken away to-morrow morning to Fontevrault 
before my eyes, perhaps with Nicolas riding by 
the window. Tell me now, Renee, why do you 


THE COACH 


295 

like that solemn piece of monkery better than 
me?** 

Renee was silent. 

“I am taller, stronger, braver, better born,** 
her cousin went on with increasing complacency. 
“ I don’t look like a sulky saint in a church 
window. Listen, Renee. When I admire a lady’s 
eyes I tell her so, and if she scorns me I carry 
her off. Our ancestors would have done the same, 
I wager — only on horseback, not in a convent 
coach.’* He laughed suddenly, stretched a great 
hand across the darkness and caught one of 
Renee’s. ‘‘ There, ma belle, come a little nearer, 
and be reasonable. One marriage is not worse 
than another, and you see I must have Mont- 
aigle. Come, I am honest with you.** 

Ren6e freed her hand instantly, and without 
difficulty. It was a complication the less to feel 
very sure that les beaux yeux de sa cassette, and 
no others, were Jean*s admiration ; though, on 
the other hand, it might lessen her power over 
him. 

‘‘ If I liked you I would not marry you,” she 
said. “ My mother forbade it with her dying 
breath.” 

My mother says that was delirium. I do not, 
mind you. Bear me witness, I speak of the dead 
with respect — and you should not mention them 
at all at this hour. Yes — I know they say she 
carried you away once. Why does she not do 
something now — overturn the coach for instance ? 
It would be easy ” 


296 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ You deserve it/’ Retire said. “ Yes, in some 
way she will save me from you." 

‘‘ I defy her," Jean muttered between his teeth: 
then crossed himself, frightened at his own words, 
remembering a vision he had once seen, and 
relapsed into sullen silence. 

He was beginning to hate this girl, so coldly 
unapproachable, so fearless, though so entirely 
in his power. Well, once safely married, she 
would pay for all. Fine plans flitted through his 
brain. His wife might as well live shut up at 
Vassy — a little repair would make that possible 
— while he swaggered at Versailles and Paris, 
the rich Marquis de Montaigle. No lack of 
friends and flatterers then. Money and jewels 
for everybody; the keys to open all kinds of 
doors. Just this adventure to begin with — the ab- 
duction of an heiress — but nobody would punish 
him, as all right-minded people must see that he 
was only taking what lawfully belonged to him. 
Still, with all these pleasant reflections, the first 
excitement of success, the first pride in it and 
brutal good-humour, were dying down a little. 

It was no longer quite so dark ; the moon had 
risen; and though the night was cloudy, one 
could now faintly see the road and the trees 
wherever they did not meet too closely. The 
coach was now ^bumping along a grass drive, 
rutty and heavy, which cut across from the main 
road towards the northern edge of the forest. 
This was a wild part, without much underwood, 
but with sand-hills and groups of firs. Crowds 


THE COACH 


297 


of rabbits, popping out with the moon, fled before 
the horses* thudding feet and the wide wheels of 
the ponderous coach that groaned behind them. 
The postilions still urged the horses to their 
greatest speed along this unaccustomed road, 
only meant for sportsmen and woodcutters. Up 
stole the moon behind the tall firs, and the low 
light shone in at the coach-window and showed 
Ren6e and Jean to each other. Even their hidden 
companion, half stifled in his black hole under- 
neath, was aware that one terror at least, the 
terror of darkness, was withdrawn. 

He lay quivering. What could he, miserable 
little creature, do to save Mademoiselle de Mont- 
aigle from a forced marriage with this ruffian ! 
His brain, usually so clever and active, so full of 
ideas and expedients, refused to help him in this 
extremity. How could he, weak and helpless of 
body, stop the coach, get rid of Jean, escape his 
companions, guide Ren6e away into the depths 
of the forest and so at last to Fontevrault and 
safety? It would go hard with them, indeed, 
if they did not meet one or all of the forester 
brothers as they made their way across towards 
the Coin des Larrons. Ah, all this was a dream 
hard to realise ; the coach still lumbered along, 
and soon the forest, friendly ground to him and 
his young mistress, would be left behind, and 
they would reach the high road presently, through 
a labyrinth of lanes, and be full on their way to 
Vassy, that den, as its owner truly called it, away 
in the wild lands of Maine. 


298 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Jean made a sudden impatient movement, 
kicked his foot backwards, and struck the dwarf 
in the face with his spurred heel. The sharp 
spike tore his cheek, and he almost cried out, 
but stopped himself just in time. 

Jean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, 
and stared hard at Renee, who had withdrawn 
herself as far as possible into the corner, and sat 
upright, motionless. In the uncertain glimmer 
of the moon her face, white and fixed, could 
sometimes be seen as the coach lurched along. 
Her cousin’s heavy jaw, his fierce eyes, the gleam 
of his white teeth in an angry smile, were only 
too visible to her. 

“ You had better make up your mind to it,” 
he said roughly. “ Nothing can save you. If 
you had consented at first, as any well-bred 
woman would have done, all this would have 
been spared. But that Abbess of yours brought 
you up badly, as we knew she would. If his 
Majesty had not written she would never have 
let you out of the convent. That was the Mar- 
quise de Maintenon’s doing, to oblige my mother. 
The Abbess could do nothing. She has lost her 
influence now that the Montespan is cast off; 
and they say too that she is a Jansenist. Ah, 
you will see, she will be turned out of her abbey 
one of these days ; and it was such a woman as 
this that your father pretended to make your 
guardian ! Do you hear me ? Answer.” 

“ What am I to say ? ” 

Renee’s tone was cold, tired, and scornful. 


THE COACH 


299 


Jean might have been merely a tiresome talker, 
who made this journey one long ennui. His 
smile became wider, more cruel, and he moved 
suddenly a few inches nearer to her. 

“Come, mademoiselle, I am impatient,'’ he 
said. “ I am tired of your airs, do you see ! 
Obey me at once. Say, ‘ I consent to marry you.’ ” 

Ren4e waited a moment, then said, “ Be good 
enough to stop the coach. I should like Mon- 
sieur de Bellefontaine to be here. He is a gen- 
tleman, at least.” 

Jean burst into a short laugh. “ Ah yes, you 
know he admires you more than I do. You are 
a coquette, with those eyes of yours — Well, 
use them as you like when once you are married. 
No, I will not have Bellefontaine here now. You 
belong to me, and you are going to acknowledge 
it. Say what I told you.” 

He leaned forward and took hold of her arm. 
His heavy grasp was pain, but she gave no sign 
of that. 

“Say it ! ” he repeated. 

“ Do not touch me,” said Renee. “ Take your 
hand away.” 

Almost to her astonishment he obeyed, let her 
arm go, and flung himself sulkily back into his 
own corner. 

“ As you know,” she said, “ I would rather die 
than marry you. I have told you that already.” 

“And after all,” he said between his teeth, 
“ that might simplify matters. After all, if you 
were dead, I should have Montaigle. My father 


300 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


has said, before now, that it was a pity you did 
not follow your brothers. An ill-tempered little 
girl standing between me and my inheritance! 
Many men in my place would have had her 
poisoned, instead of proposing to marry her."' 

“ Then France is full of murderers. But no, 
you do the world injustice. I only know one — 
yourself."' 

‘‘ Am I a murderer ? " 

“By your own showing. You ordered the 
poor dwarf to be hanged — a harmless creature 
who had done you no mischief. Poor TOiselet 1 
I loved him. I suppose he is dead now." 

“ He was the most mischievous little demon 
ever let loose. He has been one of my worst 
enemies for years. One has a right to kill the 
creatures that sting one." 

“ I know you beat him once, and told a lie 
about it. That might have been enough for you." 

“ Take care, ma belle ; do not provoke me too 
far with that tongue of yours, or I shall be dan- 
gerous. Yes, I know you loved the little brute. 
He is dead and strangled. I wish Nicolas d'Au- 
mont was beside him — and if you lay there too 
I should not shed many tears. See, I have a 
long scarf here. Suppose it were twisted round 
that little neck of yours — Now, will you say 
the words I bid you r " 

But as Jean spoke with his teeth set there arose 
something from the floor of the coach between 
his feet, something small, slender, marvellously 
active, and the moon shone on a wild shock of 


THE COACH 


301 


yellow hair and a bleeding face, and flashed on 
the thin bright blade of a poniard. At first the 
young man was too much startled to do anything 
but stare helplessly at this apparition. A shrill 
voice cried : ‘‘ Ah, strangled and dead ! Monsieur 
Jean ! strangled and dead ! — an arm was lifted, 
and once, twice, three times, Jean was stabbed 
with rOiselet’s little dagger before he could col- 
lect himself. 

Renee flung herself forward, crying : “ L'Oise- 
let ! Stop, stop ! You are killing him ! O God, 
what are you doing ? O Blessed Virgin, what 
horror ! ” 

But Jean burst into a fit of furious laughter. 
“ Little devil, little devil ! ” he cried. “ Why, 
he is scratching me with a pin ! Give me that 
pin of yours — Til use it ! ” and swearing fright- 
fully, he seized the dwarf and forced him down 
on the floor. 

There followed a minute or two of violent 
struggling. Desperation gave TOiselet such 
strength that he was almost a match for Jean, 
but at last a long sobbing cry showed that he 
was too sorely hurt to fight more. Renee on her 
side tried to open the window, screaming for 
help, but with no avail. But Jean, having dis- 
abled his enemy, who lay groaning at his feet, 
tore open the window on his own side, and 
clutching the dwarf by his clothes, lifted and 
flung him out on the dark side of the road, just 
above a sand-pit, into which he rolled down in- 
stantly. As Jean did this, Renee caught sight 


302 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


of rOiselet’s dagger lying on the floor, and in 
an instant snatched it up and hid it, wet as it 
was, inside her dress. 

What would Jean do next ? He threw himself 
down on the seat, panting for breath. 

He has hurt me — I am bleeding ! he cried 
out, between oaths such as had never fallen on 
Renee's ears before. “Do you hear? Your 
little devil has killed me." 

“Where are you hurt, Jean? Here is my 
handkerchief.'’ 

“ What use is your handkerchief! All this is 
your doing. Ah, you shall pay for it. Call 
somebody I Stop the coach 1 " 

Renee, pale and trembling, leaned out of the 
window into the night. 

“ Arretez, arretez ! ” she cried ; and this time, 
with stumbling, plunging, prancing, Madame de 
Fontevrault’s horses came to a stand. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE INN 

Lights were brought, and Jean’s two friends 
mounted into the coach. They were much 
amazed at finding him wounded, not very 
seriously, but quite enough to make him help- 
less for the moment ; one dagger thrust having 
pierced his left side and gone very near killing 
him on the spot. While Monsieur de Mancel 
examined and bound up the wounds. Monsieur 
de Bellefontaine handed Renee out of the 
coach. Both he and his friend had at once 
concluded that she, and no one else, had stabbed 
her cousin. ‘‘ Diablesse ! ” muttered De Mancel ; 
but De Bellefontaine, with a romantic admiration 
for the little lady of Montaigle, felt sure that 
Jean had brought his punishment on himself by 
some personal rudeness, and took pains to treat 
Ren^e, as he waited with her on the roadside, 
with the most formal politeness. 

“ My dear, what impatience ! said De Mancel 
to Jean, in cheerful reproof. “The temptation 
was great, no doubt, but you were not wise. 
You should have waited to embrace your future 


304 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


wife till you were safe at Vassy. You did not 
realise her state of mind. No doubt she was 
already angry with you.” 

“ What are you talking about ? Embrace the 
devil ! ” 

“ It was almost as dangerous, you will allow. 
This is a nasty cut. A good deal of strength in 
those slender little hands. I donT envy you, 
my dear De Vassy — even with the Montaigle 
diamonds.” 

Jean cried out impatiently. “ You are hurting 
me! Leave me in peace, and send some one 
back along the road to look for the fiendish 
dwarf. I tried to kill him, but perhaps I did not. 
It does not matter though. He can die where he 
is, for I crippled him thoroughly.” 

“ I am afraid you are dreadfully feverish, 
Jean. Dwarf! Do you mean that little animal 
from Fontevrault with the great eyes and yellow 
wig? We left him at Montaigle, don’t you 
remember ? You told the steward to hang him, 
which seemed unnecessary.” 

“ What a fool you are,” shrieked Jean, wrench- 
ing himself away from his amateur surgeon, 
whose attentions were the best part of his work. 

“ Allons ! a few more of such remarks, and I 
leave you to bleed to death. Are you mad, De 
Vassy ? On my word, you seem hardly fit to 
live, and I begin to admire Mademoiselle de 
Montaigle for trying to put an end to you.” 

“ It is you who are mad. Where is she ? ” 

“ Quite quiet now, standing in the road. Belle- 


THE INN 


305 


fontaine in contemplation. When we get to 
Vassy, we must lock her up carefully, for you 
will be hardly in a state to be married to- 
morrow — or to-day, is it ? and the young lady is 
a little dangerous.** 

Jean burst out laughing. Afraid of a girl, 
are you ! Why, you talk as if she herself had 
flown upon me and stabbed me.** 

“ Who did, my friend, if she did not ! You 
were alone together. We thought it was not 
quite the right thing, but you would have it so.** 

This struck Jean as serious. It would not do 
for such a report as this to get abroad ; a fine 
tale for his friends to laugh over with other 
friends, when they were back at Versailles, and 
a bad business if it reached the ears of King 
Louis and Madame de Maintenon. It was an 
act of daring, to run away with Ren6e de 
Montaigle and marry her in spite of everybody ; 
it would have been a dastardly act, so to behave 
to her that she was forced in self-defence to stab 
him. He had been a little rough, certainly, but 
he had not really hurt or offended her, he thought, 
and he did not deserve such a slur upon his 
name. He meant the world, including his 
father, to look upon him by-and-by as a fine 
fellow. 

“ It was the dwarf, I tell you,** he said. “ I 
suppose he was hidden under the seat here. 
Before I knew anything, he was on me like a 
wild cat. I assure you I had a sharp tussle 
before I got the better of him. Then I doubled 
U 


3o6 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


him up and threw him out of the window. I 
think he tumbled into a sand-pit. It cannot be 
more than a couple of hundred yards away. 
Send to look for him, De Mancel. If I had 
thought, he would have been better in a dungeon 
at Vassy. But perhaps he is dead already. As 
to Mademoiselle de Montaigle, let me advise 
you to hold your peace. We were talking quietly 
together when this little demon sprang upon 
me — and she offered me her handkerchief to 
staunch the bleeding.’* 

‘‘Ah! I am enchanted to hear it,” said De 
Mancel. “ There 1 I have done all I can for 
you, and now, as you say, we had better pick the 
creature up. Those monsters have nine lives, 
like cats. It is hardly safe to leave him loose 
in the forest.” 

But though he went off without further parley, 
and despatched two men at once down the road 
to look for rOiselet, he was not yet convinced 
that De Vassy had not invented the story to 
save himself from disgrace. Was he clever 
enough ? that seemed the only doubt. De Belle- 
fontaine, to whom the Baron said a few words 
aside, was of the same opinion. Their idea was 
confirmed, when the men came back after a search 
of some minutes on both sides of the road, and 
declared that they could neither find the dwarf 
nor any trace of him. 

Ren6e drew a breath of relief. She had been 
walking restlessly up and down in a patch of 
moonlight behind the coach, trying to see as far 


THE INN 


307 


as she could into the vague, shadowy, glimmering 
depths of woodland. 

It was like her own life, this mysterious forest ; 
impossible to see far, or to find the way. But 
yet, if she could have escaped the vigilance of 
these guards of hers, she would have run away 
among the pines without a thought of the wild 
beasts and wilder men she might meet in those 
dim labyrinths. 

Monsieur de Bellefontaine approached her 
respectfully, with a bow in the style of Versailles. 

Believe me, mademoiselle, we are desolated 
to inconvenience you. But our friend is now a 
little restored, and anxious to be away. We 
have still some distance to go.*' 

Renee, standing in the road, looked hard at 
the man who spoke. With much affectation, there 
was something about him not altogether evil. 
He was certainly the best of the three. She 
beckoned him a little nearer. He stepped 
cautiously forward. 

“ Monsieur,’* she said, “ I am not surprised at 
anything my cousin may do — he follows his 
nature and his traditions. But you — it astonishes 
me that you should take part in so cruel and 
cowardly a business.** 

“For friendship’s sake, mademoiselle,” said 
Bellefontaine, with a smile and a flourish. “ I 
have no pleasure in annoying you — on the 
contrary — but no man of spirit could bear to see 
such beauty and charm carried off to a convent. 
It was a fraud on our world that could not be 


3o8 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


suffered, you see. If you now find our dear 
Vicomte a little rough, I flatter myself that you 
will forgive him — and all of us — when the affair 
is over.” 

“You are mistaken. I shall never forgive 
him, or any of you. No human power will 
induce me to marry him. As I told him, I would 
rather die.” 

“That would be a too terrible pity,” murmured 
Bellefontaine. “ Ah, mademoiselle ! if I were in 
my friend’s place, your stony heart should be 
melted by my devotion. Ah ! I have a secret 
pain here — but I have sacrificed all to friend- 
ship. I knew too well that there was no hope 
for me.” 

He had fallen on one knee in the sand, his 
fingers lightly pressing his heart. The girl 
looked at him wildly. 

“ Monsieur de Bellefontaine, you are a gentle- 
man,” she said quickly. “Help me, let me 
escape. I will run away among the trees, and 
you can set them on a wrong track.” 

“ Mademoiselle — I adore you — but ask some- 
thing possible,” exclaimed the young Comte, 
much agitated. “Unless indeed — unless you 
would promise me your exquisite self as a 
reward — then, my sword and my life are at your 
disposition.” 

“Then this scandalous affair must go on,” 
Ren^e said coldly, and she began to walk 
towards the coach-door. “ But it will have 
some terrible end, believe me.” 


THE INN 


309 


“ Mademoiselle — fear nothing ” he stam- 

mered, following her. 

“ I have no fear,” she answered. 

On again ; and now the glimmer of moonlight 
was fading before the dawn, the clouds were 
parting, and the sun would soon rise on another 
heavenly summer day. All the world was bathed 
in dew, the forest shone, new washed, refreshed 
by the coolness of the night. As they approached 
the open country, De Mancel still leading with 
merciless energy, the road became heavier and 
heavier. Just beyond the last scattered fir-trees, 
at the foot of sandy downs which later on would 
be purple with heather, the coach gave a last 
tremendous lurch and toppled over, throwing 
two or three men who were perched behind into 
the road. Two of the horses came down with a 
crash, kicking violently, and for a few minutes, 
in that desert place, all was clatter and confu- 
sion. 

The Comte, with a word to De Mancel, had 
mounted after Ren^e into the coach, where Jean 
lay groaning without any notice of either of 
them. Ren6e, to her new companion's surprise, 
looked at her cousin and said — “ Are you better, 
Jean ? ” to which he answered by a grunt. Then 
there was silence ; and Ren^e, turning away 
from Monsieur de Bellefontaine, had watched 
from the window with weary eyes the slow 
advance of day. 

She thought of her poor I'Oiselet — dead or 
living? and secretly clasped the little hero's 


310 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


dagger. Would God — would her aunt — be 
angry r There might be this way of escape — 
and this only. In the meanwhile, her prayers 
went up to a heaven that seemed to have for- 
gotten her. 

The accident was a sudden and unexpected 
joy. She was rather bruised in the banging and 
plunging and rocking of the coach, before the 
struggling horses were cut free. Then the upper 
door was wrenched open, and she was the first 
to stand on the road-side in the fresh morning, 
pale, tragic, dishevelled, while Jean was helped 
out with a good deal of trouble and swearing. 
A wheel had come off, and there was no means 
of setting the coach right again, till a smith 
could be fetched from somewhere — Jean himself, 
the only person familiar with this country-side, 
knew of none nearer than Vassy. A noisy 
argument went on, while Renee waited in silence. 
In the midst of it. Monsieur de Bellefontaine 
scrambled out of the coach with a long lock of 
yellow hair in his hand. 

“ What is this, De Vassy ? ” he said, dangling 
it in the sunshine. 

“ It is rOiselet’s hair. Give it to me,*’ said 
Ren6e. 

“ Do no such thing,” growled Jean. “ Yes, I 
pulled it from his head, little wretch. You shall 
keep no such relics. Here ! ” 

He snatched it from Bellefontaine, threw it 
down and ground it into the dust with his heel. 
But Renee stooped, picked it up, and shook the 


THE INN 


3 


dust off carefully, then twined it slowly round 
her wrist as the men looked on. 

“ If rOiselet is dead, he died for me,’' she said, 
“ and as a relic I will keep it." 

“Little murderer," Jean muttered. “You 
would be glad if he had killed me." 

“ Your life is not of much value to me, cer- 
tainly,” the girl answered scornfully. “ But no ; 
I am glad he did not kill you. You are not fit 
to die." 

“ So^ — the story is true," said De Mancel aside 
to his friend. 

“ I am glad of it. I could not bear the thought 
that those hands " 

“ You are sentimental, my dear. But I wonder 
what became of the little monster. That gives 
me some uneasiness." 

He looked back towards the forest suspiciously. 
It lay there, blue and deep beyond the sand- 
hills, stretching away to the southern horizon. No 
human sound came from it, the mists of the still 
morning lingered upon its velvet softness of out- 
line. Who knew what pursuit might be hurry- 
ing even now through its shades, and Vassy was 
still leagues away. 

All that could be done was to mount a man, 
and send him forward in search of a smith. Jean 
stamped with fury at his own disablement. The 
wound in his side persisted in bleeding, his left 
arm was also crippled; he could not possibly 
ride, or he would soon have carried off his prey 
on horseback, leaving the rest to follow as they 


312 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


chose. Bellefontaine politely offered his services, 
with a side-glance at Ren6e. Should he have 
the honour of conducting Mademoiselle to the 
Chateau de Vassy ? 

“ No,** answered Jean, very gruffly ; then he 
added — “No offence to you, but I would not trust 
my own brother, if I had one, in such a case.** 

“ Bravo, Vicomte ! ** said Monsieur de Mancel, 
laughing and clapping his hands. 

Jean remembered that there was an inn not 
far from this side of the forest, at a place where 
four roads met — or rather four of the deep lanes 
of the country, in winter often impassable. A 
cut-throat sort of place it was, a haunt of bad 
characters; but, as a shelter, better than nothing. 
Safer from pursuit than this foolish waiting here 
in the open road. Plenty of hiding-places, if 
necessary. The Marquis of Montaigle had nearly 
hanged the host more than once at his own 
door for smuggling, poaching, or worse crimes 
still. The host before him had actually hung in 
chains on a gibbet close by, and even now 
horses would not pass that corner without shying 
and trembling. 

“ Are you afraid ?** Jean said to Renee. 

“Why should I be afraid?'* she answered. 
“ The inn is mine, I suppose ; the landlord is my 
servant. Let us go there at once. As to bad 
characters ' ' 

A shrug of the slight shoulders, a movement 
of her hands, conveyed the girrs meaning plainly 
enough. De Mancel turned away to hide his 


THE INN 


313 


laughter. De Bellefontaine murmured “ Ador- 
able ! ** Jean stared sulkily. “ Let us be off, 
then/' he said. 

They walked on down the rough road — Jean, 
Ren^e, De Bellefontaine, with two servants 
following. De Mancel and the others lingered 
to bring on the horses. They could only leave 
the disabled coach in the road. 

It was not far to the inn. Jean dragged him- 
self along, groaning considerably. Coming to 
the top of a steep hill, they saw roofs below them 
in the valley, near a stream which the direct 
road forded here. The rambling old wooden 
building was half-hidden by poplars. The inn 
was just beginning to light up its windows, and 
a half-dressed man, not long awake, was yawn- 
ing and stretching himself at the door. Above 
him swung the sign, the Chapeau Rouge^ with a 
portrait of Cardinal de Richelieu by a La Fleche 
artist. His Eminence had slept here once on 
one of his progresses through the west country. 

The man came forward, staring and amazed, 
to meet these strange travellers as they descended 
the hill. Jean de Vassy with his slings and 
bandages, his clothes torn and stained with 
blood, his looks all impatient rage, was a re- 
pulsive figure enough. Ren^e, his unwilling 
companion, was a white slender ghost under her 
black hood ; only the Comte de Bellefontaine 
retained anything of smartness, and the rough 
night travelling had affected even his dignified 
elegance. 


,314 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


“ Here, you fellow— landlord — you know me,’' 
Jean called out as the man came near; a poor 
and sneaking specimen of his kind. 

He cringed before the gentleman. Of course 
he knew him. He had seen him often, hunting, 
or on the road. Besides, he had been at the 
seigneur's funeral yesterday, like everybody 
else, but had hurried off afterwards, only staying 
for something to eat and drink, so as to get home 
before nightfall. Thus he knew not at all into 
whose hands the seigneur's power had descended, 
and was ready to lick the dust off Monsieur 
le Vicomte’s boots. He stared open-mouthed 
from one to another. He did not recognise 
Ren€e, or Monsieur de Bellefontaine. 

Jean stormed into the house, his companions 
following. The room was large, low and dark, 
furnished with stained tables and benches, and 
a great settle by the cavernous fireplace, where 
a pile of sticks was beginning to burn. Jean 
threw himself on the settle and called for wine. 
Renee walked across to the sunniest window, 
and stood there with her back to them. She 
was very still and calm. De Bellefontaine 
watched her narrowly, wondering what was in 
her mind. 

“Listen to me, you staring ass,” said Jean to 
the landlord. “ My coach has broken down, and 
I have had an accident, as you see. Is there a 
smith nearer than Vassy r '' 

The man, very slowly, named another village, 
which Jean had forgotten. He swore at himself 


THE INN 


315 


for his stupidity, and at every one else for not 
reminding him, and letting him send a man and 
horse capering off as far as Vassy. 

‘‘ Now, host, you are a cleverer fellow than I 
thought. At this place, what’s its name, one 
can have a priest and a doctor ? ” 

The host looked again from one to another, 
and his jaw fell. 

“ These gentlemen are going to fight a duel ? 
God forbid ! I obey the laws. Indeed, monsieur, 
I cannot risk breaking them, even to please such 
an honourable personage. I have sailed too near 
the wind already, more than once in my life. I 
won’t risk hanging again.’' 

“ What does the fool mean ? I said nothing 
about fighting.” 

A doctor and a priest ! ” 

“The doctor is to dress my hurts, booby, and 
the priest — you may know now, as well as after- 
wards — the priest is to marry me to that lady you 
see there. Send off some fellow on the spot to 
fetch the smith and them.” 

“ I have no one, monsieur,” panted the land- 
lord bewildered. “ My wife and her brother 
started at dawn for the market at LaFleche, and 
there is no one else here.” 

“ Then go yourself. Have you a horse ? ” 

“ One poor beast. Monsieur le Vicomte, and 
my wife has taken him.” 

“ Then go on foot, and run your fastest. If 
you are not back in an hour with all three of 
them, I will burn the house down.” 


3i6 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


“ An hour ! Oh, impossible, monsieur,'’ cried 
the unfortunate man. “ I am old — my legs are 
weak " 

“ Do you hear me ? Another moment, and I 
throw this pistol at your head. Dolt ! Leave us 
the keys of your larder and cellar, and be off 
with you." 

The man slunk out of the room. Was ever 
wretched innkeeper in such a strait? But he 
was not quite so stupid as he seemed, and there 
was a cunning light in his eyes while he looked 
up and down the road outside and listened to 
the approaching tramp of the horses. Whatever 
the Vicomte might threaten, he had no idea of 
leaving his property at the mercy of him and 
his crew. 

With the same dull and cringing manner he 
showed the Baron de Mancel into the house, 
and at his orders led the grooms and horses to 
the ruinous stables beyond. While the men 
were busy there, he beckoned Philippe, still 
wearing the Fontevrault livery, to speak with 
him. 

“You are a servant of Madame TAbbesse, 
and these are her horses," he said to him. 
“ What does it mean r Monsieur le Vicomte 
has carried off a young girl, it seems, and talks 
of marrying her in my house. Has he been 
fighting for her ? Is it an honest business ? I 
thought they said he was to marry Mademoiselle 
le Marquis. I don’t lend my house for nothing, 
mind you. I will be handsomely paid — but what 


THE INN 


317 


are you in these colours doing here? Explain 
it all — or I don’t stir a step for any of you.” 

Philippe was ready to explain. De Mancel 
had conveyed a few dozen bottles of good wine 
from Montaigle, and the men had had quite 
enough to make them talkative. Therefore 
Philippe, with a swaggering air, gave the land- 
lord to understand that his new master was not 
to be trifled with ; that the young girl was a 
prize worth winning, being no less a personage 
than “ Mademoiselle le Marquis ” herself. That 
the seizure of the Abbess’s coach was a splendid 
trick, and that every one who helped with the 
business would be paid with handfuls of gold. 
Ah ! they thought the Vicomte could be shoul- 
dered out of the way as they chose ! Mademoi- 
selle refused him. Monsieur le Marquis insulted 
him and his parents by leaving the guardian- 
ship to Madame I’Abbesse. But he was a fine 
fellow. He would throw them all out of the 
window as he had thrown the dwarf, who hid in 
the coach and attacked him on the road. 

“ What ? rOiselet ? ” muttered the landlord, 
who listened open-mouthed. 

“ We shall have roaring times, with Monsieur 
Jean master at Montaigle,” Philippe went on. 
“ He is a gentleman of the old school, that ; not 
one of your milk-and-water, soft-spoken ones. 
He’ll give you a blow one minute, and a louis d^or 
the next. That’s the sort for me. Every one 
will be glad, except the foresters. As for me, 
I have helped in this affair partly to spite them.” 


3i8 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


“Aha! You are Giraud's brother-in-law, I 
know. Well, I too have no reason to love these 
foresters. But come, we must obey orders. 
Which is the best runner among your fellows 
here ? 

“ But who are you, landlord ? and how do you 
know Giraud ? You are hardly the sort to be 
welcome at Fontevrault.’' 

“ Anyhow, comrade, I am as honest as you. 
Never mind about me. Find me a runner. It 
is for your Vicomte’s work.” 

The youngest of the grooms was called out 
and taken by the host into the back kitchen, 
where he gave him bread and meat, and a string 
of directions as to the way to find the village, 
which would have surprised any one who knew 
the country. When he was safely gone on this 
fooFs errand, the landlord slipped back into the 
large room. 

Jean was sitting by the fire, drinking freely, 
talking to De Mancel ; they were discussing 
something in an undertone. De Bellefontaine 
was stalking up and down the room, now and 
then approaching Ren(§e and making some 
slight remark, or begging her courteously, for 
the twentieth time, to sit down and take some 
breakfast. His friends watched him, in the 
intervals of their talk, with mocking smiles ; they 
left these amenities to him. Waste of breath, 
after all; for the girl stood motionless at the 
window, hardly answering, looking out into that 
summer world of freedom and beauty where 


THE INN 


319 


birds were singing, bees humming, and butter- 
flies flitting over the flowers ; for there were 
flowers, even about the dark walls of the Chapeau 
Rouge, Renee gazed out into the sunshine, with 
fixed eyes and quiet lips. That priest who was 
coming : she would make her last appeal to 
him : and if he dared — or, rather, was coward 
enough — to take Jean’s part in the matter — why 
then — the dagger’s little hilt was warm in her 
bosom, felt friendly to the fingers that caressed 
it there. 

With bows and apologies, the landlord ex- 
plained to Jean that he had found a man to do 
his errand, a young man, with longer and better 
legs than his own. Jean grunted carelessly. So 
that the smith, the priest and the doctor were 
brought, what did it matter who fetched them ! 
Then the landlord squinted round the room with 
his cunning eyes, which somehow, half closed as 
they were, redeemed the stupidity of his face. 
Sidling along by the tables, he came near the 
window where Renee was standing. She took 
no notice of him till he was close to her elbow, 
and till the Comte de Bellefontaine, on the other 
side, said, “ What is it, fellow ? ” Then she 
looked at the man. 

‘‘ My wife is not here,” he mumbled. “ But 
if this lady would like to repose herself in one 
of our rooms upstairs, we have a well-furnished 
guest-room ” 

“ I will,” said Ren6e. “ Show me the way.” 

De Bellefontaine stepped back with a bow 


320 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


as she passed him. De Mancel also rose, with 
a grimace at Jean, who called out, as the land- 
lord led the way to the staircase — ‘‘ Lock the 
door, fellow, and bring me the key.'’ 

“Without fail, monsieur," answered the low 
frightened voice. 

The stairs were very dark and evil-smelling ; 
they creaked alarmingly, even under Rente's 
light tread. Was she doing right in allowing 
this man, who bore as bad a character as his 
house, to lead her thus into its darker recesses ? 
Anything, to escape from those three below, by 
courtesy called noble. 

A narrow black passage led from the stairs to 
the low crazy door of a room. Her guide opened 
it, and descended two steps to the dirty, uneven 
floor. Two windows were shuttered against the 
sun. There were three large beds, grimy in 
appearance, with curtains and coverlets of coarse 
green baize; a table and two arm-chairs which 
had seen better days ; a high cupboard with 
brass handles on which a ray of light flashed ; 
some mysterious-looking bundles piled in a 
corner. The smell of the room was oppressive ; 
and under its low black beams there seemed to 
hover a presence of evil, so that Renee, young, 
pure and brave, shuddered a little as she 
entered it. 

She looked at the man, who lingered a moment 
before shutting the door. He was an unattrac- 
tive creature, certainly ; yet there was something 
in his face which made her speak to him. 


THE INN 


321 


“Do you know who I am she said ; “and 
that a crime has been committed ? 

He bowed very low and laid his finger on his 
lip, but whispered hoarsely, keeping watchful 
eyes upon her — “ My service to mademoiselle — 
but I am alone here/’ 

“That priest she began. 

He shook his head violently, and signed to- 
wards the stairs, which were creaking. 

“ Rest yourself,” he said, and slipped out of 
the room ; the key screeched in the rusty lock, 
and Renee was a prisoner and alone. 

The hours went on ; the sun moved slowly up 
the sky. From her barred windows she could 
see nothing, and the sounds below had all died 
away. For some time she walked restlessly up 
and down, expecting every moment to hear 
voices or steps outside the door. She felt no 
hunger, though she had fasted for so long. It 
seemed as if the slow hours must have reached 
noon, when, sitting in one of the chairs, white 
and weary, and gradually overcome with sleep 
in that heavy air, she saw the wardrobe door 
open slowly before her eyes, where it stood 
between the windows. The landlord's head was 
projected cautiously into the room. 

“ Mademoiselle — hush, take care — ” he whis- 
pered. “ They are asleep — I have a horse be- 
low 


X 


CHAPTER XXI 

'‘ADIEU, MON brave!'' 

The Chevalier d'Aumont rose joyfully that 
morning, and dressed himself with special care. 
His own prospects indeed were no brighter 
than before. A poor soldier he was likely to re- 
main. His guardian's sword and blessing were 
legacies which did him no good in a worldly 
point of view. His half-brothers, finished cour- 
tiers at Versailles, almost ignored his existence, 
and had not even troubled themselves to help 
him into the Order of Malta, that dignified 
refuge for younger sons. There was nothing 
for him but to gain distinction as a soldier, to 
be one day, as I’Oiselet had said, a Marshal of 
France. Plenty of scope for these ambitions 
under Louis XIV. 

The Abbess had known very well to whom 
she addressed herself, when she set her high 
Platonic ideal before young D’Aumont's imagi- 
nation. The boy's thoughts had always been 
romantic and chivalrous. He was what his father 
had been before him, and what his brothers 
were not, a man of an earlier time. It might 


ADIEU, MON BRAVE O’ 


323 


be said that he was a hero of Corneille, rather 
than of Racine. Simple, matter-of-fact, neither 
quick nor brilliant, he was essentially noble. 
As the Abbess guessed, he was one of those rare 
natures which are capable of unselfish love, and 
can be happy in giving themselves without re- 
ward. Now that he believed Renee to be free 
for ever from Saint-Gervais influence and safe 
under Madame Gabrielle’s guardianship, a great 
weight was lifted from his spirits. Of course, 
some day, she would marry some one else ; that 
seemed an inevitable thing, as sure as that she 
must some day die : — but still, Madame TAb- 
besse would take care that it was well with her. 

“ She does not really know what love is, my 
sweet,'’ he thought, ‘‘ and perhaps she never 
will.” 

He prepared himself joyfully to ride with the 
Fontevrault coach that morning through the 
forest. With himself and the foresters to guard 
it, he did not think that any attempt would be 
made to stop it. The Saint-Gervais could have 
no present excuse for setting aside Monsieur de 
Montaigle’s will : as to dark threats of appeal- 
ing to King Louis in the future, they did not 
greatly trouble him. The Abbess would know 
how to arrange all that. 

Coming out of his room in the early morning, 
on the tower stairs which led down to the court- 
yard and up to the library, he was surprised at 
hearing sounds above ; low voices talking, and 
the moving of heavy weights. Who were these, 


324 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

in the Marquis’s room at this hour, and what 
business had they there ? Still his old guar- 
dian’s page, Nicolas leaped noiselessly up to 
the door and tried the latch. The door was 
locked within. 

“ Who is there ? What are you doing ? ” he 
called out. 

There was silence, and then a hasty scuffling. 

“ Thieves ! and the treasure is there ! ” he said 
to himself, and shook the door violently. 

“ Open this moment, or I call men to break in 
the door ! ” 

“ Open to the fool, then ! ” cried a shrill, 
angry voice. 

It was Baudouin who obeyed. Paler than 
usual, grinning nervously, he skulked behind 
the door out of the Chevalier’s way. It was 
Madame de Saint-Gervais, deathly pale, with 
shining eyes, the image of fury, who confronted 
Nicolas as he walked into the room. The nar- 
row door by the fireplace stood open behind her. 
On the table were three or four boxes, one of 
them open, and a heap of diamond ornaments, 
some of the magnificent heirlooms of Montaigle, 
lay flashing beside it : the sun, still low in the 
east, shone straight upon them through the 
nearest window. 

“ Baudouin,” said the Comtesse, before Nicolas 
could speak, “ go and fetch help. If you were 
half a man, you would fling that boy back into 
his room on the way, and bolt the door upon 
him.” 


ADIEU, MON BRAVE ! 


325 


Madame — I am not a soldier ’’ the 

steward stammered. 

“ No,'* said Nicolas, “ you are only a thief. I 
am sorry to soil my fingers by touching you." 

He had not lived near Ga’cogne and Joli-Gars 
for nothing. A hand on Baudouin’s collar 
brought him to his knees, and there he re 
mained. Still holding him, Nicolas bowed to 
the Comtesse. 

“Madame, will you have the goodness to 
explain " 

“ And what right have you to ask for an ex- 
planation ? ” 

“ None perhaps legally — but while I am here, 
no unauthorised person will tamper with the 
treasure. You will be good enough to restore 
those diamonds " 

“Not at your orders. Monsieur le Chevalier. 
You really seem to think yourself somebody." 

“ I shall be throttled," muttered Baudouin. 

“ Let the man go," cried Madame de Saint- 
Gervais. “ How can you treat a faithful servant 
so ! And how dare you attack me, a relation of 
the family, of which you are merely a depen- 
dant, as if I had any evil design on these dia- 
monds ? " 

“ What is your design, madame ? " said Nico- 
las, unmoved. 

“I mean to remove them from this house, 
where no one is to be trusted, and to restore 
^ them in good time to their rightful owner. 
There, are you answered ? " 


326 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


‘‘No. You have no ri^ht to touch the dia- 
monds. It is Madame TAbbesse who is respon- 
sible for them — not you, certainly. You will 
leave them here. I shall set a guard over them 
until Madame TAbbesse sends her orders.’’ 

The Chevalier’s manner was courteous, if his 
words were peremptory, and his quiet resolute- 
ness seemed to have its effect both on Madame 
de Saint-Gervais and her accomplice, who ceased 
to wriggle. She made no reply at once to the 
last announcement, but as she bent over the 
table and moved her fingers among the neck- 
laces and rings as if she loved them, all her thin 
face was wrinkled with a smile. 

“ Why do you not fly to the heiress herself,” 
she said, “ and Warn her to take possession of 
her jewels ? ” 

“ I should say that she need not be troubled 
on the subject.” 

“That is my opinion. And by this time — 
she turned and looked at the clock — “ by this 
time, I think Ren6e would acknowledge that her 
mother-in-law is perhaps a safe person to be 
trusted with the care of the Montaigle heir- 
looms. Even you, Nicolas, will not deny that, 
I imagine ! ” 

The young man frowned, completely bewil- 
dered. What did this woman mean ? Baudouin 
began to choke, the Chevalier’s knuckles press- 
ing his throat inconveniently. Then a loud 
voice, shouting up the stairs, interrupted the 
strange conversation. 


“ADIEU, MON BRAVE 


327 


“Monsieur Nico! Monsieur Nico! Dame, 
he is not here. Have they made away with him 
too ! Monsieur Nico ! ” 

Nicolas turned to the door. 

“What is it, Joli-gars ? Ah, no doubt the 
coach is ready : they are waiting for me. But I 
must see to this. Madame, I leave you for the 
moment.'' 

He stepped out to the stairs, dragging Bau- 
douin with him, and shut and bolted the library 
door on Madame de Saint-Gervais. There was 
a great clamour of wild confused cries in the 
court below. Joli-gars, striding up the stairs, 
met him half-way. 

“ Ah, liar," he cried, seeing Baudouin scram- 
bling on the ground. “ There is foul play, and 
you are in it. Hold him, monsieur: nOj give 
him to me." 

The steward screamed with terror as the 
young giant first set him on his feet, then 
shook him till his teeth chattered. 

“ Ah, who sent us all on a wild-goose chase 
after poachers, while our young lady was carried 
off by villains ! Who did, I say ! " 

“ What, what ! You are mad ! " cried Nico- 
las. 

“ Go down, monsieur. The reverend Mothers 
are there in the court. The Fontevrault coach 
is gone. Mademoiselle Renee is gone, and 
rOiselet, and old Michel, and Fanchon, and 
Monsieur Jean and his friends and servants are 
gone. That rascal Philippe is nowhere to be 


328 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


found. But what have they done with old 
Michel, I ask you! He and the little fellow 
must be lying dead somewhere, or we could not 
have lost Mademoiselle/* 

Before Joli-gars had done speaking, Nicolas 
was down stairs and out in the court. For once, 
the M^re de Mortemart had lost her self-posses- 
sion ; with tears and sobs she was crying out — 
“ But where is she ? Where is she ? *’ Her 
nuns were praying aloud ; servants and peasants, 
men and women, Agathe tearing her hair — 
this time in earnest — were running, talking, 
shouting round them. All were mystified, for 
the conspirators had trusted none of the house 
people except Baudouin, not even those who 
had shown some devotion to the Saint-Gervais 
cause. No one could answer a question, but as 
Nicolas rushed on towards Ren6e^s room, two or 
three more men appeared with old Michel and 
Fanchon, half-dead with terror and pain, found 
tied and gagged in the darkest corners of an 
unused stable. The crowd gathered round them : 
wine was brought to restore them. Louise de 
Mortemart, trembling from head to foot and 
supported by the nuns, listened breathless to 
their story. Even now old Michel could hardly 
believe that Philippe’s message had not come 
from her at all. 

It was evident that by these foul means the 
heiress had been spirited away. 

“ But where is TOiselet ? ’* Agathe screamed. 
“ Find him, some of you. He slept in his old 


“ADIEU, MON BRAVE !’^ 


329 


place, and as lightly as a rabbit. He would 
never have snored while they took Mademoiselle 
away. What did they do with them ? Michel, 
Fanchon, do you know nothing, you two ? 

Michel knew nothing, except that he had 
found the dwarf sleeping on the stairs. 

Fanchon declared that I’Oiselet was there when 
the coach drove away ; that she heard him shout, 
saw a man running after him, and heard Mon- 
sieur Jean’s voice from the window, calling to 
Baudouin to hang the dwarf. 

“Ah ! We will hang Baudouin!” cried Joli- 
gars. “ Let us look for him, let us find the little 
fellow, and if he is dead, then by all the Saints 

in Paradise and all the demons in hell ” 

“ Yes — time enough for that,” shouted Nico- 
las. “ My horse, Jacquot 1 ” 

“But monsieur, where will you ride?” ex- 
claimed the M6re de Mortem art. “ How do you 
know where these men — to Paris, do you think ? 
Yes, surely that is the most likely. Go to Ver- 
sailles, monsieur. Apply to the Marquise de 
Maintenon. Surely a person so moral, so cor- 
rect ” 

“Ah, mon Dieu, madame, it is nearer than 
Paris I The clock, the clock I and I am losing 
time here — but some one knows I ” 

He dashed back to the tower door and leaped 
up the stairs, leaving Mother Louise quite mysti- 
fied. The library door was open, Madame de 
Saint-Gervais was gone; so were the boxes of 
jewellery from the table. Baudouin also had 


330 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


vanished, Joli-gars in his excitement having left 
him sprawling on the stairs, 

‘‘ She must, she shall tell me ! said Nicolas 
between his teeth. 

Rushing across the chateau to the rooms occu- 
pied by the Saint-Gervais family, he came sud- 
denly, in the long corridor, on the Comte and 
Comtesse in high argument. 

‘‘ Foolish ! unpardonable ! The most idiotic 
thing that your idiot son has ever done in his 
miserable life. His Majesty will never forgive 
him. Nothing displeases the King more than 
such an irregularity. You might have had the 
wisdom, madame, to stop it in time.’* 

“There was no other way,** cried the Com- 
tesse. “ We are not philosophers like you, Jean 
and I. At first sight, yes, it seems wicked — but 
after all. King or no King, it is boldness that 
takes this world — and the next, they say ! You 
will change 3'^our note, my dear friend, when you 
know that the marriage is safely accomplished. 
And you can tell every one that yoii- had no part 
in the affair. VoUy in your prudence, would 
have waited to contest the will till Ren6e was 
betrothed, at least, to some one else.” 

“The day after her father’s burial — it is a 
terrible scandal, an atrocious mistake. We are 
ruined at Court for ever, I assure you. Will 
any one believe that I knew nothing of it ? ” 

It was a strange thing to see Count Alexandre 
really agitated and in earnest. 

“ Then, monsieur,” cried Nicolas, bursting upon 


‘‘ADIEU, MON BRAVE! 


331 


them, and hearing the last words, “you will tell 
me where to find them. I go at once to carry 
Renee to Fontevrault.” 

The Comtesse laughed mockingly. The 
Comte’s manner changed entirely as he turned 
to the young man with his old, unpleasant smile. 

“ My dear boy, who are you ? ” he said. “ One 
of the family? or Madame de Fontevrault’s 
agent? And permit me to remind you that 
Mademoiselle de Montaigle is no longer a child 
in arms, that she should be called ‘Renee.’ In 
fact she has probably, by this time, added 
another honourable name to her own.” 

“ Monsieur I You do not approve of this — this 
villainy ! I heard you say that it was done with- 
out your knowledge.” 

“ Possibly, if I had been consulted, things 
might have been arranged in a different way. 
But I am charmed, I assure you, to welcome my 
daughter-in-law. ” 

Madame de Saint-Gervais laughed again. 

“ You will not tell me where they are gone ? ” 
said Nicolas, as quietly as he could. “ I warn 
you both— I will raise France against you. My 
guardian not yet cold in his grave, and you, his 
relations, robbing him of both his daughter and 
his treasures. You shall be punished, if there 
is law in France, or justice with the King.” 

The Comte made a slight grimace. 

“ You are a fine-spirited fellow, Nicolas. And 
it is alarming, certainly, to know that a man of 
such great influence is our enemy.” 


332 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Suddenly there arose a shout in the courtyard 
below. Nicolas looked out of the window, and 
saw the tall figures of Grand-Gui and Gars-cogne, 
marching up under the archway. Both men 
were fully armed, two great dogs were at their 
heels, and Grand-Gui was carrying what looked 
like a lifeless burden, its limbs wrapped in a 
large grey wolf-skin, one of his chief trophies of 
the chase. 

Without another word Nicolas left the Saint- 
Gervais pair in the corridor, and hurried down. 
A moment before, he had been on the edge of 
despair; a sickening feeling of utter hopeless- 
ness had almost conquered him. Now, with the 
sight of those two men and what they carried, 
hope seemed to spring again. That was I’Oise- 
let ; and if he was alive, there still existed a 
brain capable of out-plotting plotters, and of 
finding the way out of the most puzzling mazes, 
moral or physical. Years ago — Nicolas had not 
forgotten the helpless, bandaged frame, the blue 
eyes shining from the pillow, the brave weak 
voice talking — 

“ You and I, Monsieur Nico — your good heart 
and straight back, and my queer ways and cun- 
ning brain — ** 

And all for Mademoiselle Ren^e. 

“Ah! poor POiselet 1 Where did you find 
him, forester ? What have they done to him ? 
Alas 1 what will Madame TAbbesse say ? 

So the M^re de Mortemart lamented, in the 
centre of the little crowd which drew round 


“ADIEU, MON BRAVE!” 


333 


Grand-Gui. He bent on one knee, holding his 
burden tenderly in his left arm, and folding the 
wolf-skin back from the face. There were 
purple marks on I'Oiselet’s deathly paleness, 
and the sweat stood in beads on his brow. 
Every breath he drew was a spasm of agonising 
pain, and though his heavy eyelids quivered, 
the power to speak or to look up seemed to be 
gone for ever. 

“ Fetch Pierrot 1 fetch the barber ! ” cried 
some. “ Fetch Monsieur le Cur4 I ” exclaimed 
others, judging more justly of TOiselet^s state. 

“Fetch Monsieur Nico I ” commanded Grand- 
Gui. 

As he knelt, Gars-cogne and the two dogs 
made a wild background to the scene. 

“ Who has done this ? ” cried Nico, the crowd 
making way for him. 

“Monsieur Jean.” The answer came like a 
growl of thunder from the throats of the two 
foresters. 

“ Where did you find him ? L'Oiselet, old 
friend, cheer up,” said the soldier. “I want your 
help and counsel, my man. Where have you 
been hidden all these hours ? ” 

The eyelids trembled, and then the great 
spiritual eyes flashed out once more their mes- 
sage into those bent over them. L'Oiselet tried 
to speak, but it was not possible. 

“ He was in the coach, Monsieur Nico,” said 
Grand-Gui. “ Yes, in the coach with those two. 
Monsieur Jean threatened to kill Mademoiselle 


334 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


if she would not marry him, and our little fellow 
up and at him with that play dagger of his. 
Monsieur Jean stabbed him and cut him about, 
and broke some bones — yes, the ribs have 
pierced the lungs — and threw him out of the 
coach window. Listen, then, monsieur, and all 
of you. He crawled and dragged himself for 
some hours through the forest till he lay at our 
door. He told us his story till the bleeding 
stopped more.'* 

But where — where — which road ? Nicolas 
cried wildly. 

‘‘We thought it was the north road — but then 
how could the coach — Madame TAbbesse's great 
coach ” 

“ L'Oiselet ! Courage ! Speak ! For Our 
Lord and Our Lady's sake, for Mademoiselle 
Renee's sake, whom you love as well as I " 

Again the eyes opened, and the sobbing breath 
became words — 

“ Vassy. There is time." 

“ But is there time ? " Nicolas murmured. The 
eyes held him yet a moment, and TOiselet was 
smiling. He stooped and kissed the cold damp 
brow. 

“ Adieu, mon brave ! " 


CHAPTER XXII 


THREE BROTHERS 

It was not much more than an hour after noon, 
in the burning heat of the day, when Grand-Gui, 
Gars-cogne and Joli-gars, with two dogs running 
steadily before them, reached the northern 
boundary of the forest. This part of the domain, 
with its pines, sand-pits and population of 
rabbits, was not often visited by them. The 
neighbouring peasants stole the rabbits with 
impunity ; the Marquis’s wood-cutters hewed 
down the tall fir-trees and dragged them away ; 
here and there a charcoal-burner’s hut was 
hidden among the trees. But the great game — 
deer, wild-boar, wolf — did not haunt these 
regions, where there was little underwood to 
shelter them. It was with them, and with the 
larger forest trees where pheasants roosted, 
under whose roots, in dark mysterious depths 
of earth and moss, foxes, badgers, and other 
mischievous creatures had their holes, that the 
Marquis’s foresters and keepers were mostly 
concerned. 

There was no difficulty in tracing the course 


336 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


of the coach along that north road. The turf 
and the sandy, peaty soil were all cut into 
furrows and holes by the broad wheels and 
the horses’ tramping feet. Besides, the dogs 
followed unerringly. They stopped and snuffed 
about the place where TOiselet had been thrown 
out, where the stones on the edge of the road 
had rattled down with his small broken body 
into the deep sand-pits below. They stopped 
again where the coach had stopped for Jean’s 
wounds to be dressed, where the road was all 
kicked and trampled about by the restless 
horses. 

Not very far beyond this, the dogs behaved 
rather unaccountably. At one of the narrow 
paths leading off into the depths of the wood, 
they turned suddenly aside and seemed bent on 
following it. Their masters held a minute’s 
consultation. Joli-gars went down on his knees 
and examined the path ; then announced that a 
horse had gone down that way. The Chevalier 
had had the start of them, but they flattered 
themselves that their long swift legs were not 
far behind him. 

“ I believe it is Monsieur Nice’s horse,” said 
Joli-gars, slowly. “ Small hoofs, well shod ” 

“ And the dogs are always right,” Gars-cogne 
added. 

“ But why should he have turned off this way ? 
This leads due west into Anjou. Vassy is north, 
in Maine.” 

“Ask the dogs ! They know.” 


THREE BROTHERS 


337 


Joli-gars raised himself, and both brothers 
looked at Grand-Gui, who stood balancing on 
one leg, his keen face bent towards the north, 
a dark fire in his eyes, grave and dreamy. 

‘‘ What are you lazy logs waiting for ? ” 

. “Why see Gui, Monsieur Nico has taken 
this road.'' 

“ What is that to us ? " 

“ The dogs say we should follow him." 

“ Then go, if you please. My road leads me 
to Vassy. It is I alone, then, who will rescue 
Mademoiselle. So be it ! " 

He was off, but not without a low whistle, 
which brought his dog rather unwillingly to 
his heels. 

“ So — we cannot let him go alone," said 
Joli-gars. 

“We are all fools together. I want some- 
thing to drink. If Mademoiselle is married by 
this time, what is the use of running oui 
legs off ? " 

“ Come, old grumbler ! At least you may get 
a chance of laying your hands on Monsieur 
Jean." 

“ And be killed myself, I expect. Ay, I did 
not tell you. When we looked out of the door 
this morning and found the little fellow lying 
there, I saw one magpie sitting on the old oak 
just over my head." 

“ But it was for him, stupid, not for you. I 
doubt he is dead by this time, in spite of my 
wife and Pierrot.’’ 

Y 


338 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


‘‘ Ah — well, no good will come of it,” Gars- 
cogne went on grumbling. 

But his strong frame had already outstripped 
Joli-gars, bounding after Grand-Gui. 

They came to another stop when the last fir- 
trees were left behind, and in descending to 
the poplar-edged valley they reached the place 
where the coach had broken down. It was not 
there now, but there were signs of a great scuffle 
in the road, ploughed in all directions by 
plunging horses and tramping men. The 
foresters could not explain these marks at all 
to their satisfaction. The dogs showed their 
opinion by running down the hill. 

“ There is the Chapeau Rouge,'" said Grand- 
Gui. “ The rascal Leblanc shall give us news 
of them.” 

But the next turn in the hill brought them 
all to a sudden stand. With one accord they 
whistled to the dogs, who came back and 
crouched behind them, growling. They stepped 
off the road, went down on their knees, and 
crawled through the long grass till they over- 
looked the inn, so near to it that they could 
have hit the nearest chimney with a stone. The 
coach was at the door, the six horses harnessed, 
the postilions in their places, two or three men 
holding saddle-horses. All was ready and 
waiting for a start. 

“ They must have felt pretty safe, to stop here 
for dinner,” muttered Joli-gars, stifling a laugh. 
‘‘ Or the little fellow must have hurt Monsieur 


THREE BROTHERS 


339 


Jean more than he thought with that toy dagger 
of his. I thought it would not kill a mouse.'* 
“They had an accident on the hill there/* said 
Grand-Gui. “ Now, brothers, they are all in the 
house. We must see to both sides at once. Is 
there not a way in that Joli-gars knows ? 
Through the great room where those stolen 
barrels were found ? We must see that Made- 
moiselle is not snatched out that way.’* 

“ Bien ! I charge myself with the back of the 
house,** said Joli-gars cheerfully. 

“ Ga’cogne and I must tackle the three 
masters. You have cord, so have I. We leave 
them bound, as they left old Michel. The 
servants, except Philippe, are not worth 
counting. If they are troublesome, we can set 
the dogs on them. The landlord knows us ; he 
will not interfere. We can put Mademoiselle 
in the coach, make him and his brother ride the 
horses, and run beside it ourselves to Fonte- 
vrault. That is the whole matter.** 

“ Why the lumbering coach, Gui ? I would 
rather carry the little lady myself by a 
short cut.** 

“ You would shake her to death. And she is 
not a child now, remember, but a great lady.” 

“ Our little lady a great lady ! ” Joli-gars 
shook with laughter ; he did not grow less 
frivolous with years. “ But where can Monsieur 
Nico be ? '* 

“ No matter. We have our-work to do. Now, 
down with you all, and gently.” 


340 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


I wish I had not seen that magpie ! ” Gars- 
cogne groaned, as he prepared to follow. 

They had not reached the house, going down 
cautiously in the shade behind the poplar-stems, 
when the landlord, leading a horse, peered over 
the top of the hill behind them. He saw with 
consternation the repaired coach at the door, 
and all the signs of life stirring about the place 
that he had left buried in noonday drowsiness, 
much improved by the strong wine in his cellar. 
All was found out, then. He had been missed, 
no doubt. He and his horse were in the 
greatest danger. As to the three foresters, 
stealing down-hill on an errand easily guessed, 
they would only run their heads into a wasps’ 
nest. They were no friends or favourites of his, 
however, and his conscience was not a tender 
one. But before disappearing by a side path 
which led to a hovel where he could hide his 
horse, himself watching the course of events 
from a safe distance, he whistled sharply 
between his fingers once or twice. Not one of 
the brothers turned his head. 

“ It is no affair of mine,” muttered the land- 
lord. “ Surely I had something better to do 
than to race across country for her. She can 
but turn me out and ruin me — and she will 
hardly do that now.” 

Joli-gars slipped round unseen to the back of 
the rambling old building, where an outside 
staircase, much decayed, led up to a door in 
the wall. He mounted it lightly and quickly. 


THREE BROTHERS 


341 


tried the door, which yielded, and stepped into 
a dark hole within. This was in fact the large 
cupboard, through which there was a direct 
entrance into the room where Ren^e had been 
imprisoned through those morning hours. The 
brass-handled door flew open before Joli-gars at 
the same instant that the door of the room itself 
was unlocked and opened by Monsieur de Belle- 
font aine. They faced each other; the young 
noble, flushed, slender, graceful, caught in the 
act of a formal bow to the lady he supposed to 
be there ; and the son of Guillaume the peasant, 
burnt dark by the sun of June, handsome, 
towering in his strength a head and shoulders 
taller. 

In the shuttered room the light was dim, and 
Bellefontaine stared fiercely all round, as well as 
at the intruder, before he satisfied himself that 
Mademoiselle de Montaigle was not there. 

‘‘ What do you want here, canaille ? he said. 

“What we mean to have — our lady,'’ Joli-gars 
answered, looking him up and down. 

“ Why, you brute, she is not here. You have 
taken her away already. Where is she ? What 
have you done with her ? Come, you will answer 
to the Vicomte for this." 

His rapier flashed out. Joli-gars laughed. 

“ I have but now come in," he said, “ through 
the cupboard there. If you thought Mademoiselle 
was in this room, it is by that way she has 
escaped you. Monsieur Nico has fetched her 
away." 


342 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Is it so ? Then we shall soon catch them/' 
cried Bellefontaine ; and he was dashing out of 
the room, when Joli-gars laid a heavy hand on 
his shoulder. 

‘‘Not so fast, Monsieur le Comte," he said. 
“First give me that bit of steel." He took the 
rapier and flung it across the room. Before it 
had rattled on the floor, Bellefontaine was forced 
into one of the large chairs, while Joli-gars, press- 
ing his throat with one hand, drew his long knife 
with the other. 

“Listen, my little monsieur," he said. “Take 
your choice. Shall I fasten you to the chair 
with this, or with a piece of rope which I have 
here?" 

“ You murdering villain, what do you mean ? " 
the young Comte yelled, struggling furiously. 

“ If you are murdered, as you call it, it will be 
your own choice. Come, I am three times as 
strong as you," said Joli-gars, smiling. “Cease 
struggling, or you will run on my knife of your 
own accord. Voila 1 Sit well back and keep 
still. Now, arms first." 

Still it was a troublesome job. Joli-gars had 
hardly finished it, his victim struggling, raving, 
swearing all the choicest oaths of the day, when 
the loud report of a pistol, somewhere below, 
deafened their ears and shook the room. Joli- 
gars often afterwards regretted the yards of good 
cord he wasted on that occasion. For he did not 
even stop to cut it off, but left the Comte tied 
hand and foot to the chair, bolted out of the 


THREE BROTHERS 


343 


room, along the dark passage, and headlong 
down the stairs to the large living-room. He 
dashed open the door and burst in upon a scene 
which froze the smile on his merry lips and 
sobered him for many a long day after. 

Monsieur de Mancel, made of quicksilver, had 
not taken his midday rest quite so peacefully as 
his companions. He was awake to the fact that 
no doctor, no priest, and no smith appeared in 
consequence of the landlord's message. Going 
to look for the landlord and make inquiries, he 
could nowhere find him. This made him a little 
uneasy, for valuable time was slipping away, 
and the Vassy messenger could not be expected 
till much later in the afternoon. He called 
Philippe, the most resourceful of the men, the 
most eager too to recommend himself to 
Monsieur de Vassy. Between them, in one of 
the outer sheds of the Chapeau Rouge, they found 
a set of wheelwright’s tools, and less energy than 
theirs would have sufficed to set the clumsy 
coach on its four wheels again. The horses, well 
fed, were soon led out and harnessed, the coach 
was brought down to the door, and De Mancel 
was busy rousing Jean, who in spite of his 
smarting wounds lay in a heavy sleep on the 
settle, while De Bellefontaine, pleased with his 
errand, went lightly upstairs to announce the 
coach to Mademoiselle de Montaigle, when a 
sudden cry rang outside, and the two foresters, 
wild and tall, red and dusty from their long run, 
appeared without asking leave in the brown 


344 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


shadows of the room. They left their dogs out- 
side, with a word which warned them not to 
let those men follow their masters. The dogs 
understood well. They sat on the doorstep 
with red eyes rolling, tongues lolling out and 
jaws gaping. Their strong teeth had pulled 
down wolves, and looked threatening enough 
now ; the rough grey hair on their backs bristled 
fiercely. 

“ What do you want here, foresters ? Come, 
be off with you ! You are intruding,*’ the Baron 
de Mancel began boldly, but he was conscious 
of a slight chill at the sight of these pursuing, 
avenging servants of Mademoiselle deMontaigle. 
Their looks and manner were too uncom- 
promising to be pleasant. 

Neither Grand-Gui nor Gars-cogne was quick 
of tongue, especially before superiors. Grand- 
Gui said very quietly, after staring for a moment, 
‘‘ Monsieur Jean will understand.” 

“How were they let in?” Jean stammered 
furiously. “ Was everybody asleep ? Have I 
none but fools and cowards, then ? Get you gone, 
Grand-Gui, with your lump of a brother ! ” 

He tried to rise, exclaimed with pain, and 
flung himself back with his hand to his side. 

“ Monsieur Jean is wounded, it seems ! ” said 
Grand-Gui, and he smiled, a strange thing for 
him. “ With I’Oiselet’s little dagger. The fight 
was fairly equal, then — I am glad of it.” 

“What are you mumbling about TOiselet? 
Go and look for him, if you want him. He is 


THREE BROTHERS 


345 


lying dead somewhere in the forest. He went 
too far, your TOiselet, in trying to cross me. Be 
off, or you will do the same.” 

“ Monsieur Jean is not the murderer bethinks 
himself.” Grand-Gui spoke gravely and very 
gently. “ Wait, Ga’cogne,” he said to his brother, 
who did not repress a savage snarl. ‘‘UOiselet 
came to our door this morning and brought us 
news of Monsieur Jean’s doings, and how he had 
carried off our lady by force, and threatened her 
with death if she would not consent to marry 
him.” Here Monsieur de Mancel, listening in- 
tently, started with incredulous disgust. “He 
gave us the route,” Grand-Gui went on, as Jean 
remained silent. “ Monsieur le Chevalier started 
before us, and ought to have been here before us. 
We think he must by some mishap have taken a 
wrong road. But we shall take Madame TAb- 
besse’s coach, and our lady will be safe with us. 
My youngest brother is now searching the house 

for her. Meanwhile ” he swiftly unwound 

a cord from his waist, recommended De Mancel 
to Gars-cogne with a jerk of the head, and ad- 
vanced upon Jean with a face which was the 
more terrible from its set quietness and gravity. 

“ We shall not hurt the gentlemen, if they do 
not resist,” he said. 

Jean burst into a laugh. 

“ Let us see whether this one has nine lives 
like his friend the dwarf ! ” 

He took the pistol, ready cocked, which lay 
near him, and fired with an aim that was careless 


346 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 

and unsteady. But Grand-Gui threw up his 
arms and fell crashing down, shot through the 
heart. 

“ Mademoiselle ! he called, in a voice that 
rang through the old house. 

He was dead before Joli-gars reached him, 
rushing wildly into the room. 

But the next moment, before any one could 
interfere, a blow from Gars-cogne"s fist had laid 
Monsieur Jean beside him. 

“ You will be hanged for this, forester,” said 
the Baron de Mancel, coolly. 

“ I will earn the rope,” Gars-cogne said, with 
a step towards him. 

De Mancel drew his sword and faced the 
furious giant. 

“ I do not like to use my sword on canaille. 
Still, you are a bold sort of canaille, so come on 
and feel it, my fine fellow. But I rather advise 
you to give yourself up to justice.” 

Stand back then, Ga’cogne,” said Joli-gars, 
rising to his feet ; he had been stooping over his 
brother, hoping against hope that the wound 
was not mortal. ‘‘ We have no quarrel with this 
gentleman,” he said. ‘‘ Let him give us up our 
lady, and we will carry her and our brother away. 
Where is she, monsieur ? ” 

“ Find her for yourselves. I have had enough 
of it,” said De Mancel. 

While the two brothers were searching the 
house, having called their dogs away from the 
doorj to follow them, he called the men in and 


THREE BROTHERS 


347 


made them carry Jean’s insensible body out to 
the coach. As they were doing this, De Belle- 
fontaine suddenly appeared among them. 

“ What have you done with the heiress ? ” said 
De Mancel. 

‘‘ She was not there.” 

“That is the landlord’s doing. I suspected 
the rascal. This is the worst failure I was ever 
concerned in ; it sickens me of adventures. Come, 
let us make the best of our way to Vassy with 
our unfortunate friend. Impossible to know 
yet if the monster has killed him, but he felled 
him like an ox. However, he has a thick skull. 
And I will bear witness that the fellow was 
provoked.” 

“ They are magnificent, those foresters. Pity 
the tallest is dead,” said the young Count, with 
a not unkindly glance at Grand-Gui where 
he lay. 

No one ever heard from him his own little part 
in the adventure. It was too affecting to his 
pride, especially as Joli-gars had returned and 
set him free. 

The two remaining sons of old Guillaume 
carried their eldest brother slowly home through 
the forest. Night had fallen when they reached 
their own old hovel ; the stars were shining in 
their own small space of sky. They laid Grand- 
Gui down, and watched him till day. 

“ That magpie ! ” Gars-cogne groaned. 

“Mademoiselle will be sorry,” said Joli-gars. 

But where was she ? She had escaped from 


348 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


the robbers, but how ? The forest must be 
searched to-morrow. 

That evening saw the old inn, the Chapeau 
Rouge^ flaming to heaven, the distracted land- 
lord vainly trying to save some of his goods. 
This was a last piece of malice performed joy- 
fully by Philippe the groom, on a careless hint 
from the Baron de Mancel. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 

Mademoiselle de Montaigle was justified in 
saying that the inn was hers and the innkeeper 
her servant. He helped her on his horse, which 
was strong and handsome and carried a lady's 
saddle ; perhaps it would have been unwise to 
inquire how he became possessed of horse or 
saddle. Renee was far from troubling her young 
head on the subject. He had thought of every- 
thing, this worthy man. He brought a bag of 
cakes and a flask of wine. 

“ Mademoiselle can eat and drink," he said, 
“ as soon as we are safely lost in the forest." 

“Yes, my friend, with pleasure, for I am 
starving," Renee answered cheerfully. 

The world, her own world, had never seemed 
to her so beautiful. She was free ; that terror of 
a forced marriage lay behind her; the refuge 
oflfered by TOiselet's dagger seemed foolish now, 
as well as sinful. All this night and morning 
were like a dreadful dream from which she had 
awaked, oh, so gladly, to find herself on horse- 
back in the beautiful wild lanes scented with 


350 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


honeysuckle, long branches laden with red and 
white roses arching the road and sometimes 
touching her hood as she rode under them. 

The little man trotted at the horse’s head, 
leading him carefully up the rough road. He 
was very silent and sometimes looked round, 
listening nervously for sounds of pursuit ; but 
there were none ; neither man nor beast broke 
the heavy stillness of noon. All went well till 
the forest boundary was past. They had not 
gone far on the road the coach had taken when 
they came to a side road to their right, leading 
westward ; hardly indeed to be called a road, 
but like many of the hunting paths in the forest, 
just wide enough to ride along. The guide was 
about to turn the horse into this pathway. 

“ Stop ! Where are you going ? ’’ cried 
Mademoiselle Renee. 

“ Mademoiselle, this is the best way. The road 
is narrow at first, but we shall presently come 
into a broader one, and three hours hence we 
shall strike the main road. Monseigneur’s great 
road, in the very middle of the forest. Trust me, 
mademoiselle. I have lived here from a boy, 
and I know my way. I have visited my uncle, 
though he never made me too welcome, indeed. 
Now he will sing to another tune, I think ! ” 

Your uncle, good man ? Who is your 
uncle ? ” 

Mademoiselle knows Leblanc, the steward ot 
Madame T Abbesse r ” 

‘‘ But who does not ? ” 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 351 


‘‘I am Jacques Leblanc, his nephew, at 
mademoiselle's service. He has tried to disown 
me, it's true, more than once or twice. He for- 
got that a man must live, and that there is not 
too much chance for an honest man in times like 
these. But mademoiselle will arrange all that. 
Come, beast ! ” 

“ Stop, I say. This road of yours — it is surely 
a most roundabout way to Montaigle.” 

“ But Mademoiselle ! It is not the way to 
Montaigle at all. It is the way to Fonte- 
vrault.*' 

“I am not going to Fontevrault. This that 
we stand on is the direct road to the chateau, 
the road by which they brought me, is it not ? 
Allons ! 

Jacques Leblanc’s yellow face became pink. 
He stamped, slapped his leg, and ground his 
teeth. 

“Does mademoiselle reflect,’* he stammered 
out, “ that she will be missed and pursued ? 
That those gentlemen will come galloping along 
this road, and will catch us long before we are 
near Montaigle ! And what will they not do to 
me, who have risked life and limb and my best 
horse for mademoiselle ? No, I will not — indeed 
I will not. I have not the courage — I value 
these poor bones of mine. Mademoiselle can 
ride on alone, for I dare not. I have been bold 
enough already, for we all know what Monsieur 
le Vicomte is. No ! Mademoiselle will remember 
me in the future — poor Jacques Leblanc of the 


352 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Chapeau Rouge, who would have guided her 
through the forest, hidden her if necessary, 
brought her safe to Madame TAbbesse in the 
end. I shall be paid for my good horse and 
saddle — I trust mademoiselle for that. But to 
go along this road with certain death following 
after — no ! 

He became more voluble as he went on, and 
only stopped for want of breath, with anxious 
eyes and ears bent down the road. Not a 
sound except from the insects, and the occa- 
sional cry of some small wild creature in the 
wood. 

‘‘ My good man, you are ridiculous,'* said 
Renee scornfully, yet not unkindly. ‘‘ Monsieur 
de Vassy will not touch you. And do you 
suppose that my people will not be searching 
for me high and low ? We shall meet them 
immediately, no doubt. And many things call 
me home. Come, obey me. I will be respon- 
sible for you.’’ 

Jacques groaned and shrugged his shoulders. 
He would gladly have disobeyed her, have 
turned at once into those depths of lonely wood- 
land, almost impassable except to those who 
knew them well, whether their knowledge was 
honestly gained or not. Leblanc had disgraced 
his excellent uncle’s name by being known as 
one of the cleverest poachers in the country. 
Now that his uncle, under the Abbess, was 
likely to rule Montaigle for a time as well as 
FontevraulLit seemed advisable that these old 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 353 


stories should be forgotten. And the heiress’s 
favour was worth having. 

So, in spite of his groans, he hurried the horse 
along the Montaigle road. 

They had gone some distance silently, and 
Renee, with the long lock of I’Oiselet’s hair still 
twined round her wrist, was living again in 
frightful memory the adventures of the night, 
trying to recognise the road, then seen so dimly, 
to make out the spot where her poor dwarf had 
disappeared. Something of the forest terror, 
creeping over her, had dulled the first young 
joy of freedom ; but her mind was busy with 
thoughts of all that must be done at Montaigle 
and could not be left to her aunt’s wisdom in 
the future : first and foremost, the search for 
rOiselet, which she could entrust to Grand-Gui ; 
then, a final farewell to her Saint-Gervais 
cousins, to whom she gave the credit of being 
innocent of their son’s wicked scheme ; then, 
the consoling of the dear Mother de Mortemart, 
whose state of despair she guessed ; and then, 
Nico. Must this, too, be farewell ? No ; the 
little lady resolved to command her Chevalier 
to stay at Montaigle till she herself, with the 
M6re de Mortemart, departed in her own coach 
for Fontevrault. 

“ Mademoiselle, I hear a horse ! ” 

Leblanc was livid with fear ; his teeth were 
chattering. 

“ But which way is it coming ? ” 

“ I think — from Montaigle.'^ 
z 


354 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Forward, then.” 

There was a twist in the road just beyond, 
where the coach, ignorantly driven in the dark- 
ness, had had one of its narrowest escapes of 
being overturned. A stately clump of beeches 
jutted out into the road, which had been made 
to turn them. Under these old trees, in the 
warm shadow of afternoon, young Nicolas came 
galloping alone on his way to Vassy. He 
pulled up so suddenly that his horse nearly lost 
its footing, was off and by Rente’s side before 
either of them spoke. She, pale and heavy- 
eyed, leaned forward to him and put both her 
hands in his. Her black hood fell a little 
forward, so that no one but himself could see 
her eyes and the welcome they gave him. It 
almost stupefied him. 

“ She loves me ! She does love me,'’ he 
thought. ‘‘ Oh, Ren^e ! " he sighed under his 
breath. 

Jacques Leblanc winked aside at the beech- 
trees. 

“And where are you going, Nico?" mur- 
mured Mademoiselle Ren4e, the most self-* 
possessed of the two. 

“ I was on the way to Vassy. That was what 
rOiselet told us. You have escaped, thank 
God ! but how ? ” 

“ L'Oiselet told you — how ? where is he ? I 
thought Jean must have killed him. He would 
have died for me. How glad I am ! Poor 
rOiselet ! Tell me all quickly. And the dear 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 355 

Mother de Mortemart ? And you were riding 
after me alone ? ** 

Nico hardly knew how to answer her : his 
brain seemed to reel. With one hand he 
caressed her horse’s neck, the other still held 
hers. He had thrown his own bridle to Leblanc. 

It was not easy to tell her all. He hardly 
thought that TOiselet could be still alive, but he 
would not sadden that moment by telling her so. 
He told her that Agathe was taking care of 
him ; that the foresters were by this time 
following on the road toVassy; that the M^re 
de Mortemart was distracted, Madame de Saint- 
Gervais triumphant. 

“ Is it possible ! Oh, wicked woman ! She 
knew ! I cannot believe it ! ” Renee cried. 

‘‘ She looked at the clock this morning, and 
said — to me — that she was already your mother- 
in-law.” 

“ Ah, my friend ! There was no real danger 
of that,” said Renee gently. 

‘‘ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean that I should have preferred Purga- 
tory. No, you did not believe her. Come, let us 
go forward ! To Montaigle, and as fast as we 
can. — Follow us at your leisure, good man — or 
go back, if you will, and come to me later to 
fetch your horse and your reward.” 

“ You will not go back to Montaigle, Ren 4 e, 
while your cousins are there. I cannot allow it, 
do you see ! Trust yourself to me, and I will 
take you across country to Fontevrault.” 


356 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


The little lady did not at once accept this 
suggestion. But Nicolas was very firm, and 
Leblanc struck in eagerly on the same side. He 
warned them too of the danger of pursuit, which 
Ren^e did not seem to realise. 

‘‘But the M^re de Mortemart,” she said. 
“ And Grand- Gui and his brothers ! They will 
run all the way to Vassy after me, or at least 
to the inn ; and there will be a fight, and who 
knows what may happen ! No, no ; I have not 
enough faithful friends to risk them so. You 
see, Nico, I must go to Montaigle.'' 

“ You must not. This man will go. He can 
take his horse and go. I will take you on my 
horse ; it will be easier, through the forest. It 
is decided. Come, I will hear no more.’' 

He had lifted her before she could remon- 
strate, and set her on his own saddle. Rende 
was a little angry, but she smiled. 

“ Do then what Monsieur le Chevalier says,’’ 
she commanded Leblanc, with a queenly air; 
she must be obeyed by somebody. “ Carry my 
most respectful greetings to Madame de Morte- 
mart, at the Chateau de Montaigle. Beg her to 
take the coach and drive at once to Fontevrault. 
Tell her I am safe and well in Monsieur le 
Chevalier’s care, and shall be there as soon as 
she. Warn the foresters, and any you may meet 
in search of me, to go no farther. Tell them I 
say that the punishment of those wicked men is 
not for them. But let them shut up Baudouin 
in the prison.” 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 357 

Jacques Leblanc bowed. With great anxiety 
for Mademoiselle’s comfort, he hung the bag of 
cakes and the flask of wine on Nico’s horse ; 
then pointed out a path beyond the beech-trees, 
which led, he assured them, at no very great 
distance, into the main road to Fontevrault. 

“ I thank you, Leblanc. I will see that you 
are well rewarded,” said his liege lady. 

“ I am glad to have served Mademoiselle,” 
the fellow answered. 

Holding his horse, he watched them disappear 
into the shadows of the wood, there where Joli- 
gars traced so unerringly the prints of Nico’s 
horse’s feet, and where the clever dogs tried to 
follow. 

“ A pretty pair ! ” he said to himself, grinning. 
“I wish them a pleasant journey. But as to 
my lady’s messages — merci, monsieur ! I see 
nothing urgent in them, and I shall do what is 
best for myself — that is, go home. A little 
round about, perhaps, for fear of the gentlemen 
in pursuit. So — come along, little horse ! ” 

A pleasant journey ! As he led his horse 
deeper and deeper into that lonely woodland 
world, Nicolas d’Aumont could have found it in 
his heart to wish that Renee had ordered her 
ill-looking guide to follow her to Fontevrault, 
instead of sending him on to Montaigle. To be 
alone with her for hours and hours, far from 
humankind, with little chance of meeting even a 
charcoal-burner or a woodman in those miles of 
hill and valley covered with great trees or with 


358 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


thick groups of hollies, yews, thorns — deep little 
forests of ferns and bracken, wild roses flung in 
lovely garlands everywhere, emerald moss trac- 
ing the course of some spring that spread in low 
marshy places rich in water-plants and flowers — 
to follow the path, almost by guess-work and by 
the slanting sunbeams as the day began to wane, 
leading the horse that carried his one treasure 
in all the world, and yet hardly daring to turn 
his head and look up, or to speak, for fear of a 
too kind, too sweet answer ! It was far harder 
now than it had ever been, now, after what he 
had read in those dark eyes, to remember how 
he was bound in honour never to forget the im- 
passable distance between them. The Moon 
and Endymion was a poor comparison. The 
Moon might stoop to a mortal ; Ren6e de Mont- 
aigle, a great lady in France, must not stoop 
to a poor gentleman of her own degree. His 
devotion must always be that of Madame de 
Fontevrault's ideal lover. And to a man of his 
nature it was possible, as long as his love was 
something of a child, and as long as he could 
say to himself with conviction, “She does not 
know what love is.” It was harder now. 

Renee talked to him a good deal at first. She 
told him something of her adventure, but not 
much, for Jean's name made him shiver from 
head to foot with rage. 

“ Three villains ! ” he said. “ But they shall 
pay for it. When once you are safe, they shall 
account for it to me.” 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 359 


“ I don’t mind now,” Renee said softly. 

Let us forget them. I am with you, and poor 
rOiselet is safe. What does anything else 
matter ? ” 

He took refuge in describing to her the morn- 
ing at Montaigle ; Madame de Saint-Gervais’ 
attempt on the jewels, the discovery of poor 
Michel and Fanchon, and all that had followed. 
She listened with many exclamations. 

“ Could you have believed, Nico, that there 
were so many wicked people in the world ? Did 
such dreadful things ever happen before ? That 
is what they mean at the convent, when they 
talk about this wicked world. Ah ! and yet one 
must stay in it ! ” she sighed. “ My dear little 
Mere de Mortemart will bring Michel and 
Fanchon safe back to Fontevrault. And now, 
Nico, you will be surprised, but I am thinking of 
the cakes in that good landlord’s bag. You 
know, I have had no food since last night. I 
would not take what those men offered me.” 

“ Since last night ! But you must be dead ! ” 
Nico cried, instantly stopping. 

“No. But when they called me to start at 
midnight, I never thought of breakfast. Not 
here, Nico. This is all thorns and briars. I 
will dismount in a nice grassy place and sit in 
the shade, and you shall have some cakes too, if 
you deserve them.” 

He did not look up, and the little playfulness 
seemed thrown away. She watched him with a 
touch of sadness. Was he anxious, afraid, un- 


36 o the heiress OF THE FOREST 


happy ? What, here in the beautiful greenwood, 
safe in these depths of her own old forest, now 
that the birds were beginning to wake and to 
sing among the leaves! What could he wish 
for more than to be here alone with her? It 
ought to be the happiest day of his life ; she 
rather thought it was the happiest day of her 
own. But then, had she forgotten that he was 
always rather dull, and slow of speech — poor 
Nico I 

A lovely mossy place among the roots of a 
great beech, its young shining leaves a royal 
canopy ; here she sat in state while he brought 
her the cakes and wine. His manner was grave, 
and he hardly looked at her, stupid Nico ! But 
he lay at her feet and she gave him a piece of 
cake, as if he had been her dog lying there. 
Their eyes met, hers smiling divinely, his — they 
made her a little sadder. His colour changed 
and he looked away, the cake seemed likely to 
choke him. Renee had a sense of the ridiculous, 
and the situation appealed to it. 

Her kind heart, however, sought for some 
means of setting her friend at his ease, and she 
began to talk of that old story years ago, when 
this same Nico as he rode into the world found 
her lying asleep in this same forest. It was 
interesting to find that the story was still to him 
deeply mysterious, that he crossed himself, 
and looked away to where some pale birches 
gleamed in a dell close by, as if he saw the 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 361 

white sweeping robes of her dead mother, the 
Marquise. She hastened to tell him the truth of 
it all, and in listening he almost forgot his new 
fear of her. As she talked of Grand-Gui, her 
faithful servant and friend, it seemed suddenly 
as if something strange were abroad in the 
forest. A wind circled round the tree, and lifted 
her hair, the leaves all about rustled ; Nice's 
horse started and plunged where he stood, then 
trembled violently. High up above, an owl 
hooted dismally, and a flight of small birds flew 
hurrying down the glen. Both Nice and Renee 
started, looking about them wonderingly. 

“Did you hear some one say ‘Mademoiselle'?" 
the girl murmured, a little pale. 

“ No, I heard nothing, except the birds.’’ 

“ Let us go on,” she said. “ I do not like this 
place, Nico.'' 

Afterwards they knew that at that same hour 
Grand-Gui had given his life for her. 

On they went, more silently now, and before 
very long, by careful steering, they reached the 
broad road, and pursued their way steadily 
towards the Coin des Larrons and the road to 
Fontevrault. Nicolas was anxious to be out of 
the forest before nightfall. 

They had once or twice startled a deer on their 
passage, couching in the bracken ; and as in the 
soft and lovely evening they were leaving the 
wood at the Coin des Larrons, suddenly a great 
grey wolf appeared before them, standing in the 


362 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


very middle of the road. Nicolas pulled the 
horse up sharply and loosened a pistol. 

“Fear nothing/' said Renee over his shoulder. 
“ He is only one of my wolves. Go, good beast, 
back to your friends. Some day we will hunt 
you, but not now." 

The wolf trotted on slowly and disappeared in 
the underwood. 

“ See how obedient my vassals are ! " mur- 
mured the little lady. 

“ Probably he neither saw nor smelt us, the 
wind is south/' said Nicolas. 

“ You really are without imagination ! " 

“Ah, yes, I am a stupid stock ! " he laughed 
in answer. 

The forest dangers were over, but the roads 
held more, and to Nicolas more alarming ones. 
LarronSy highwaymen, lawless people, strong 
beggars, strolling pedlars and mountebanks ; 
the wickedness of some of these and the 
curiosity of others were to be feared, with such 
a charge as he carried behind him. It now 
seem.ed the quickest way to ride double, and he 
did what he could to hide his own accoutrements, 
keeping a pistol near his hand, and to muffle 
Renee as completely as possible in the long 
black cloak she wore. Thus they rode for miles 
as night came on ; his horse, strong and young, 
seemed to feel the extra weight nothing, but 
carried them swiftly past various roadside en- 
campments where lights glimmered and rough 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 363 


voices called after them. Thus at length they 
came to the bridge at Saumur, crossed it safely, 
the stars of that glorious June night flashing in 
the Loire, rode steadily along the quay as though 
they were quiet bourgeois returning home from 
some fair in the country. Nicolas would stop 
nowhere for rest or food, but pushed on to Fonte- 
vrault, along the road by the Loire which turned 
at Montsoreau into a wilder woodland road 
leading to the Abbey. 

When the sleeping village of Montsoreau with 
its historic chateau was safely past, Nicolas dis- 
mounted, and went on leading his horse up the 
road. It was lonely, shaded by large groups of 
chestnut and walnut trees. There was a warm 
aromatic scent in the air, night-birds were cry- 
ing, strange voices never heard by day. It 
would be midnight before they reached the 
Abbey gates. 

Renee looked up at the stars and down at him 
as he walked by her side. She thought of her 
father and mother. What had saved her from 
Jean de Vassy, if not that dear mother’s prayers! 
As for her father — “ He understood me, I know 
he did, and he would have let me have my way!” 
Last night — oh, horrible remembrance ! 

“ Ah, Nico ! My aunt will ask for news of 
rOiselet.” 

It had been a very long silence that was thus 
suddenly broken. 

Nicolas was startled. His whole mind had 


364 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


been so bent on this journey and its own risks 
that he had forgotten everything else. 

“ Let us hope for the best/' he said, after a 
moment's hesitation. 

“ Nico " — she began again, and there was 
something in her voice, a pathetic thrill, which 
made his heart beat faster. “ Tell me, what will 
come next ? 

“Fontevrault — and adieu," he answered. 
“ There you will be safe." 

“ Safe ? What do you mean by safety, Nico ? 
What will they do with me ? " 

“Whatever Madame I'Abbesse does will be 
right." 

Renee gave a little laugh. Such a sentiment 
seemed too correct to be real. 

“What confidence ! " she said. “ I am not so 
sure of that. She will marry me to somebody." 

“ Well ! " 

“ You call it ‘ well ’ ? To me it seems very ill." 

“ Every lady must marry," Nicolas said sternly, 
“ at least, every lady like you. What is the use 
of playing with these things ? It is life, it is 
necessity. Or else the convent — and that is not 
for you." 

“ I know it is not," Ren 4 e murmured. “ Lis- 
ten, Nico," she bent forward and touched his 
shoulder. He started and looked up, but her 
face was in deep shadow. Only her voice went 
on speaking to him, passionate and low, like 
maddening music in the darkness. “ It will be 


THE RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST 365 


adieu in a few minutes you say — adieu for life — 
then, though you may think me wrong and im- 
modest, we must understand each other. My 
poor father when he was dying — do you remem- 
ber? He told me there were other men in 
France, and I said to him that there was only 
one — you know — you knew’then — what I meant, 
Nico?’’ 

He muttered something inaudible. 

‘‘ What were the last words he cried to my 
mother ? — he saw her, you know. Oh yes, you 
know. ‘ Diane, you have your way — but these 
poor children ' — If he had lived, Nico, do you 
think he would have forced on me some marriage 
that I hated ? 

Still Nicolas made no reply. 

“ Mon Dieu ! '' she murmured, so low that he 
hardly caught the words — “ I see, then — ^you do 
not love me.'' 

The horse stopped — gladly enough, for he was 
tired — and Nico stood looking up in the starlight. 

“ Love you, Renee ? That surely is not the 
question. It is one of honour, not of love. Re- 
member who you are, and who I am. How 
could I speak of love to you, so far above me ? 
That day, my queen, when I met you in the 
garden at Fontevrault, Madame I'Abbesse read 
my heart. But she believed also in my honour, 
or I should never have gone with you to Mont- 
aigle. She trusted me. Why do you try then 
to make me forget " 


366 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


Ah, wicked Ren6e ! She stooped low from 
the saddle, her face was close to his. 

“ Then — if it is adieu 

Their first kiss, since the meeting in the gar- 
den at Fontevrault, and one to be remembered 
when all others were forgotten. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A STRANGE WEDDING 

Separation came with the lights of Fonte- 
vrault. All the Abbey precincts were astir : the 
Abbess herself was in the cloister, and a troop 
of her mounted guards were drawn up in the 
outer court. They were about to ride off in two 
divisions, one to Montaigle, to take possession 
of the chateau and assert her authority there, the 
other to Vassy, in almost hopeless pursuit of the 
stolen girl and in support of the few faithful ones 
who had already followed her. 

The Mother Louise had only waited to receive 
rOiselePs last sigh. She had left him, when the 
weary little frame could suffer no more, with the 
good old Cure and in Agathe*s tender care, had 
ordered the coach without any reference to Mon- 
sieur and Madame de Saint-Gervais, and had 
driven away with her nuns to carry to Fonte- 
vrault her load of news, good and bad : the Mar- 
quis’s will, the crime that had been its immediate 
consequence. Her arrival acted like a magician’s 
touch on Madame de Fontevrault. Leaving 
her bed, forgetting pain and fever, she was 


368 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


everywhere that night, ordering everything, 
thinking of everything. The regular routine had 
never been so disturbed. A letter to the King 
was written with the Abbess’s crippled hand, 
copied by her secretaries, who wrote at her 
dictation other letters, to her brother, to Madame 
de Maintenon, to various persons high in power. 
Two mounted messengers were ready to start 
for Paris and Versailles, carrying the news of 
Monsieur de Montaigle’s last will and testament, 
so scandalously disobeyed by the violent action 
of Jean de Vassy. The Abbess knew the King 
well, and hoped, though she could not be sure, 
that he would take her side in this affair. Even 
if the wretch had dragged Mademoiselle de 
Montaigle through some sort of marriage cere- 
mony — it might be annulled, it might be proved 
illegal — or at least the Bastille or Vincennes 
might teach him to repent of his precipitancy. 

All the fire of her noble race glowed in 
Madame Gabrielle’s dark eyes as she restlessly 
paced the cloister, while the Grand Prioress, the 
M^re de la Mothaye, wrung her hands and 
prophesied a still worse attack of rheumatism 
and fever. 

Then, near midnight, the convent peace was 
disturbed by another arrival : a stream of torches 
and lanterns swept up together from the gates 
to the cloister door, bearing in their midst a 
tired horse, a girl, wild and flushed, clinging 
unconventionally to his mane, a young man, pale 
as death, leading him. At the steps she held 


A STRANGE WEDDING 


369 


out her arms to him, and he lifted her down and 
carried her to the Abbess. He stood back, 
bowing deeply, while the girl flung herself at 
her feet, clinging to her habit, kissing her hands, 
breaking down suddenly, now that the dangers 
were past, into passionate, uncontrollable 
weeping. 

The Abbess stooped and lifted her, held her 
close and kissed her tenderly. 

“ Peace, peace, my Ren4e ! All is well.'’ 

She led her away, but before doing so she 
turned to Nicolas and held out her hand to him. 
He kissed it reverently, without speaking. 

“ My chevalier ! " the Abbess said, very low, 
as her eyes, dim with tears, rested upon him. 
“ Come to me in ten minutes,” she said, “ and 
tell me all.” 

The messengers to Paris and Versailles were 
countermanded ; the guard was despatched to 
Montaigle, but not to Vassy. Nicolas's inter- 
view with the Abbess was not a long one ; he 
had not much to tell — not much, at least, that 
could be told — beyond the fact of his meet- 
ing Renee with Jacques Leblanc in the forest 
road. 

“ Leblanc will be glad to hear such news of 
his good-for-nothing nephew,” the Abbess said 
absently. 

She looked hard at Nicolas. She was think- 
ing, though he did not know it, of certain hurried 
words of passionate confession that had escaped 
from her young ward as she held her in a mother's 
A A 


370 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


warm embrace, before leaving her to be fed and 
soothed to sleep by the M^re Louise. 

“ Go now. Monsieur le Chevalier,*' she said. 
‘‘ Sleep well to-night. Your room is ready in 
the guest house, and Leblanc will see that you 
are well attended. Eat what he offers you — I 
command it, do you hear ! You are young, and 
to you this day has been as exhausting as to 
your charge — your rescued friend. I may ask of 
you some further service to-morrow.’* 

‘‘ For her, madame ? " Nicolas dared hardly 
meet her eyes. 

“ For her, and for me,” the Abbess answered 
gravely. “ Now, good-night. I shall send for 
you in the morning.” 

For herself there was no rest that night at 
all. The dawn, stealing palely in, found her 
deep in consultation, not with any of her nuns, 
even the most trusted, but with one who in these 
long sad days of her life of repentance — proved 
sincere by many a good action, and not least by 
the never-failing confidence and love of such a 
sister — spent a large part of her time at the 
Abbey of Fontevrault. 

Neither sister quite knew which of them, in the 
small hours of that summer night, forgetting its 
heat and weariness — though the windows were 
prudently closed against white mists that stole 
up from the valleys — was the first to originate 
that wild and romantic idea. Either would have 
been glad to take the credit of it upon herself, 
even before success had justified it. Madame de 


A STRANGE WEDDING 


371 


Fontevrault had felt that nothing else was possi- 
ble, when she saw those two young creatures 
coming together out of the darkness, and caught 
Renee’s first sobbing words as she led her away. 
Madame de Montespan declared from the first 
that it was the only way, even now, to save the 
little heiress from the clutches of her cousins. 

‘‘ That horrible De Vassy is not soriously 
hurt, of course,'* she said. “ They will make a 
hero of him, a martyr, a victim. Understand 
me, the King's own inclinations are always good. 
He sees right naturally. His instinct would be 
to treat Jean de Vassy as the brutal, disgusting, 
unworthy creature he is. And he has never 
cared much for the father, who thinks himself so 
superior to ordinary mortals. But the mother 
— ah, my dear, we women do more harm than 
good in this world — there is no limit to her 
hypocrisies, her flatteries. She will manage her 
to the end of time, and through her the King." 

“But such management takes time, and there- 
fore — " said Madame de Fontevrault. 

“ Therefore we must lose no time on our side," 
Madame de Montespan continued. Her still 
lovely face, her magnificent blue eyes, seemed 
to flash and smile with pleasure. She had few 
joys now, much ill-health, and fits of terrible de- 
pression ; but to her last days she loved to see 
others happy, and this was her feeling now, 
mixed with the natural satisfaction, though the 
old life was left behind, of helping to outwit her 
clever rival. 


372 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


“ Sit down, ma belle,'’ she said merrily. “ There 
are pens. Write another letter to his Majesty. 
Ah, what pleasure this gives me ! I love a 
pretty marriage where the world has nothing to 
do. Youth and true love — ah, my Gabrielle, 
what blessings of God, and what a little value 
we human creatures set upon them I ” 

“ Yes. I have a great confidence in the good- 
ness and the friendship of the King,” said 
Madame Gabrielle. “ Still, I do not hide from 
myself that this may condemn our poor little 
Chevalier to a lifelong prison.” 

“ It is worth the risk, and so the young man 
will think, if he is worthy,” said Madame de 
Montespan. “ In any case, it is almost sure to 
mean safety for la petite.” 

In the high choir of the Abbey church, where 
the sun, not long risen, glowed through rich old 
jewelled glass, with no witnesses but a few nuns 
in their black choir habits, the chaplains of the 
house and of the neighbouring monastery, a 
courtly abbe, a great lady or two, and the effigies 
of the four royal Plantagenets on their tombs ; 
here and thus, informal, hurried, yet religious 
and stately — the bride in a simple robe of white 
serge without a single ornament, the bride- 
groom in his travelling dress of the day before 
— the marriage of Nicolas d’Aumont and Rende 
de Montaigle was celebrated. 

When the short ceremony was over, the young 
people were instantly separated. Th^re wa§ 


A STRANGE WEDDING 


373 


no questioning the Abbess’s will. Renee dis- 
appeared into the depths of the convent, under 
the Grand Prioress’s care. Nicolas received a 
letter from the Abbess to the King, and rode off, 
with two of her men in attendance, to Versailles. 
To both him and Renee the whole thing seemed 
like the wildest, most improbable dream. That 
they should have knelt together before that 
altar, and there plighted their troth ; that Renee 
should even now wear a wonderful ring with a 
sapphire, which her aunt de Rochechouart had 
brought from her treasures to serve as a wedding 
ring — its story was told long afterwards ; that 
Nicolas, the King’s officer, should have presumed 
to marry without his sovereign’s leave, and 
should have received from any lesser authority 
the hand of one of the richest heiresses in 
France ; it was all so improbable. And yet it 
was certain ! It was done, this impossible thing, 
and not even the King’s power could undo it. 
Only the Church, which had bound, could un- 
loose, and a pious king would hesitate before 
demanding that, without a better reason than a 
young man’s want of fortune. 

For a month no answer came to the Abbess 
from the King, and no news from Nicolas. Ren4e 
had never before known what dreariness meant. 
The mourning for her father, so strangely in- 
terrupted, was resumed with all the strictness of 
etiquette. Even the garden, which a few weeks 
ago had been a place of such enjoyment, was 
now only the scene of a formal promenade. 


374 the heiress OF THE FOREST 


Married, yet a prisoner; treated, even by her 
aunt, with a mixture of stiff politeness and the 
strictest supervision ; the little lady of Mont- 
aigle, who had had her way — adventures in 
plenty, the marriage her heart desired — almost 
regretted her child-life and her lessons. 

Madame de Fontevrault thought it necessary 
to tell her very little about her own affairs, ex- 
cept indeed of the deaths of her two true friends, 
rOiselet and Grand-Gui. She was herself 
anxious beyond expression for the end of this 
affair. She heard that Jean de Vassy had 
recovered, and had gone back with his parents 
to Versailles. Her coach had been returned to 
her, considerably the worse for wear, but she 
swallowed her anger for the present. She also 
ascertained that the Comtesse had conveyed 
away with her some of the most valuable of the 
Montaigle heirlooms, but she held her peace on 
this matter also. What would the King do } 
What would be the effect of her letter, more 
strongly and eloquently worded, more boldly 
denouncing and confidently asking, than any 
she had ever dared to write to his Majesty ? A 
royal order had been sent down to Montaigle, in 
obedience to^which three persons had immedi- 
ately gone to present themselves at Versailles : 
the Cur6, the notary, and Chariot, called Joli- 
gars, the porter. The notary, by command, took 
with him the late Marquis’s will and the princi- 
pal deeds of the estates. It seemed, therefore, 
that the King was taking unusual trouble to 


A STRANGE WEDDING 


375 


examine into the truth of what had been told 
him on either side. But every day’s delay was 
a cause of fresh alarm to Madame de Fonte- 
vrault. She began to have serious qualms about 
that morning^s work, which had seemed at the 
time so heroically right. Had she ruined the 
life of Diane’s child, to save her from a danger 
which might in future be imaginary ? 

As the days went on, her fears for Nicolas 
deepened. The King might punish him, it was 
only too likely : and yet, as she had explained 
in her letter, the responsibility was not his. 
Poor boy ! his honest, handsome face haunted 
the Abbess night and day. With what fearless 
yet puzzled joy he had gone through the mar- 
riage ceremony ! How loyal he was, how hon- 
ourable he had been — truly the perfect knight 
she had fancied. And now, perhaps, he was 
already shut up in a State prison : for lesser 
offences than a too ambitious marriage men 
had grown grey in the Bastille. Possibly, too 
probably, Nicolas d’Aumont was already in 
what should have been Jean de Vassy's cell 
there. 

‘‘ Alas ! ” said the Abbess to herself, “ all that 
I do for the child fails ! ” 

Thus during the days of suspense she shrank 
from seeing Ren4e, and the young girl, in her 
strangest of positions, shed many tears alone. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A LETTER FROM THE KING 

The sultry heat of a July afternoon brooded over 
Fontevrault. Nearly all the Abbey was asleep ; 
and Ren4e, in her narrow little room, sitting at 
her table, with a letter to Nico before her which 
was never finished, for she did not know how it 
was to reach him, had laid her head on her 
arms and slept too. She was sad, pale, and 
weary ; her cap had fallen off, her curls were all 
in tumbled disorder ; and even as she slept, two 
large tears crept from under her eyelids and ran 
down, blotting the letter. 

So the M^re Louise found her, when she came 
to call her to the Abbess. 

“ Oh ! It is Nico ! ” the girl started up with a 
cry. 

“ No, ma petite. He is not come — but it is a 
letter from the King.’’ 

“ Bad news ? Oh, not bad news, dear little 
mother ? ” 

“I do not know. Our Mother smiled when 
she told me to call you. I can say no more. 


A LETTER FROM THE KING 


377 


Oh, what hair, Ren6e ! You look like a mad 
little pensionnaire, not a married lady/’ 

“My hair! what does it matter!” and she 
was gone. 

The Abbess sat in her own great chair, in her 
shady room, pale and suffering from the heat. 
The room was darkened so that her white figure 
seemed at first the only thing to be seen ; then, 
standing just below, eyes dazzled by the glare 
of the cloister saw a very tall man dressed in 
black, with a folded letter in his hand. Ren4e, 
as usual, made her formal curtsey to the Abbess 
on entering the room, but it was hardly accom- 
plished when she cried out, “ Joli-gars ! ” 

“Madame 1 ” 

The good fellow’s broadest smile beamed upon 
her. Then he was on his knees, had kissed 
the hand his little lady gave him, and held up a 
letter. 

“ Madame,” he repeated — the word seemed to 
please him hugely — “ a letter from Monsieur le 
Baron. I was to give it into Madame’s own 
hand.” 

“ Monsieur le Baron I ” Rente’s face fell. 
What new persecutor was this ? 

She looked up at her aunt, then down at the 
letter, for the Abbess was certainly smiling. 
Then the pale face became crimson. For the 
letter was addressed, in Nice’s well-known hand, 
to “Madame la Baronne d’Aumont de Mont- 
aigle, k I’Abbaye de Fontevrault.” 


378 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


‘‘ Go, CharloV said the Abbess. “We shall 
see you again later.*' 

Joli-gars rose and bowed. 

“ Ah, no, dear aunt; I have so much so say to 
him!*’ cried Ren6e. “Joli-gars, you must tell 
me a thousand things — of Agathe and the chil- 
dren — and then — oh, our Grand-Gui, the dear, 
faithful — ** her voice broke into a sob — “Ah, 
how I have wept for him, and for poor TOiselet I 
What will ever make up to me for the loss of 
those two?’* 

Joli -gars looked grave and stern enough now. 

“ Mademoiselle,” he said, forgetting himself, 
“ if my brother knows all, he is happy. And the 
little fellow too — it was the death they both 
would have chosen, to die for Mademoiselle 
Ren6e — pardon, madame 1 *’ 

The Abbess made a peremptory sign, and 
Joli-gars, much confused, slunk hastily out of 
the room. 

“ I must tell her another time,” he muttered, 
“ that if Ga’cogne gets a second chance of hit- 
ting Monsieur Jean, he won’t rise up again in 
such a hurry. Hang for it — ay, with pleasure 
— only Monsieur Nico will see to that.” 

“ Sit there, Ren6e,*’ said the Abbess. “ Keep 
your letter till you have heard this from the 
King.” 

“ Has he made Nico a Baron ? ** cried the girl 
laughing. “He cannot be angry, then, dear 
aunt. He must be very kind.” 

“ Silence, and listen to me.** 


A LETTER FROM THE KING 379 


“ Madame L Abbes se de Fontevrault : 
You are not mistaken in the belief that my 
friendship for you would lead me to examine 
carefully into any cause recommended to me by 
you. I have acquainted myself with all sides of 
this matter, and have resolved to uphold your 
action, though it has been represented to me as 
unusual and unnecessary. I have recommended 
the Vicomte de Vassy, and those who were con- 
cerned with him in the forcible abduction of 
Mademoiselle de Montaigle, to regain my favour 
by diligent service on the frontier. As to the 
husband that you, as her guardian under her 
father’s will, have chosen for this young lady, I 
have no objection to him. At the request of his 
brothers, I make him colonel of my new regi- 
ment of dragoons. I also create for him a 
barony, and command him to bear his wife’s 
name and arms with his own. A year’s service 
with his new regiment will be necessary before 
he can return to Anjou ; in the meanwhile you 
will exercise your office as guardian. Certain 
heirlooms, now in the hands of Madame la 
Comtesse de Montaigle de Saint-Gervais, will 
be returned to you without delay. Be assured 
of my constant interest in all that concerns 
yourself, your prot 6 g 4 s, and your Order, and 
remember me at all times in your prayers. I 
pray God to keep you, Madame I’Abbesse de 
Fontevrault, under His holy protection. 

“ Louis.** 


38 o the heiress OF THE FOREST 


“ That is a triumph/* said Madame Gabrielle. 
“Come and embrace me, Ren6e. Your mother 
will be contented now.** 

“ But I am not ! ** cried the new Baronne, 
rebelliously. “ Does the King mean that Nico 
will not come back for a year ? What cruelty ! ** 
“ Oh, foolish child ! And so young as you 
both are ! Be thankful, and on your knees, that 
he is ever coming back at all. The Bastille was 
too likely an end for our romance, let me tell 
you. Now begone with your precious letter, for 
I must write my humblest thanks and yours to 
his Majesty.** 

Renee escaped ; not back to her stifling room 
however, but away into the garden, down the 
avenue, the long charmilleSy breathlessly still in 
the heat of that day. Not even a frog croaked 
in the fountain, when she sat down near it and 
read her young husband*s letter. It was not 
eloquent; Nicolas had no genius for composi- 
tion ; but it satisfied her. She looked up, after 
puzzling through it for the third time, and in 
the deserted garden she seemed to see familiar 
figures ; poor TOiselet, smiling under his yellow 
curls ; then a tall, strange gentleman, very 
stately and grave at first, then suddenly more 
than her boy lover, Nico, had ever been to her. 
Only in May : the same rose-trees still in bloom ; 
but a whole long year must pass before those 
dear arms held her again. 

“ Ah ! time is so long ! ** 


A LETTER FROM THE KING 38 


Curled up on the grass, her cheek on the stone 
edge of the fountain, she slept again ; and 
though the gold-fish came in a crowd to peep at 
her, and the oldest frog croaked solemnly, and 
the birds began to twitter as the shadows grew 
long, she slept on till they came to look for her ; 
slept, like an enchanted princess waiting for her 
hero. 

But her dreams were not of him, though his 
letter lay near her heart. She dreamed that 
day of the dead, not of the living ; of her mother, 
her father ; of Grand-Gui and I’Oiselet, her 
giant and her dwarf, who lay side by side under 
the ancient yews, in the little churchyard at 
Montaigle. 

One year 1 One hundred years ! It is pleasant 
to know that the memory of the good Baron and 
Baroness, of Monsieur Nico and Madame Renee, 
saved their great-grandchildren in the upheaval 
of the Revolution, when half the chateaux in 
Anjou were consumed by fire or torn down by 
the hands of furious peasants, and when the last 
Abbess of Fontevrault, a great-niece of Madame 
Gabrielle, escaped through the forests to die in 
a Paris hospital. 

Two hundred years ! and the wide-spreading 
forest of Montaigle is almost a legend, and only 
through a small portion of its old extent does 
the merry hunt still sweep in winter. Owls nest 
in the white towers, while in the shelter of 


382 THE HEIRESS OF THE FOREST 


crumbling walls the peasants store their hay. 
A remote descendant comes and searches in 
vain, in the old chapel still guarded by a 
salutary superstition, for any trace of the last 
Marquis de Montaigle and the heirs of his fine 
name. 

So pass the lordships of this world, their 
treasures and their glory ! 


PRINTED BY H. VIRTUE AND COMPANY, LIMITED, CITY ROAD, LONDON. 


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